


These Hands

by thesecretmichan



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Difficult Pregnancy, Drama, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Romance, Suspense, Unplanned Pregnancy, how long can we go without telling Spock hmm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretmichan/pseuds/thesecretmichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Spock knocked you up?" Bones asked quietly, eyes wide, lips pulled back in a grin. "That robot got it up and put a telepathic bun in your oven?" He held a hand up. "I need a moment." - <i>ON HIATUS, pending rewrite</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to pop in and give a huuuuuge thanks to Roxy, Grimmy, and especially Kiri, who spent countless hours talking pregnancy shit with me. Ubububu you guys are the best <3

"I'm starting to think we should've gone with the lava," Jim Kirk rasped, knuckles white, fingers digging into his biceps. His limbs trembled and a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin; however, when he looked up at his first officer, he managed a tight grin. "I somehow feel like we picked the short straw this time."

Spock quirked an eyebrow up, but refrained from commenting on the idiom. He steepled his hands in front of him, lips pressed to his joined forefingers, and when he spoke, his voice was calm. "The trial by fire the natives offered only gave us an eight point two percent chance of survival; conversely, the administering of the mainosetum flower nectar was merely supposed to depress the central nervous system in a similar manner of the archaic Terran benzodiazepine as well provide minor hormonal spikes in order for them to properly gauge our sincerity of our intentions for the accidental faux pas-"

"Truth serum," Jim supplied. He tried to suck in a lungful of the stale prison cell air, but the sound was tight and wet. Alarms rang in Spock's ears as he tried to diagnose the cough. "You're rambling, Spock," he managed after a second.

"Vulcans do not ramble," Spock reminded him; he hesitated and then said lowly, "I did not take into account the chance you would have an adverse allergic reaction to the flower, Captain. Jim."

"It's cool," he told Spock as another shudder racked his body. "I didn't know I was allergic to it, either. And you're right: this is slightly better than surfing through boiling lava." Jim's lips thinned as he tried to clear his throat. "We missed our check-in; it won't be long before Scotty beams us up. I'll be fine."

"Our scheduled check-in was thirty eight point eight minutes ago. Mr. Scott, having received no response from either of us, should have immediately locked onto our signal and transported us aboard." Spock allowed himself a minute frown, jaw working as he attempted to continue to dispel the lingering effects of the flower from his body. "It is possible he will not be able to locate us for some time-"

"What do you want me to do Spock?" Jim hissed. "There's officially nothing left in my stomach to barf up." Jim's arm twitched and then a moment later he reached over to fist his hand tightly in Spock's tunic. "Sorry," he mumbled, finally allowing himself to collapse against Spock's shoulder. "How're you doing?"

"My controls are functioning adequately," Spock answered quietly, gently brushing a strand of hair from Jim's forehead. His skin felt abnormally clammy, even for a Human. "However, I cannot feel anything from you at the moment, even through skin-to-skin contact."

"Uhura's gonna kill me if I broke her favorite Vulcan," Jim joked, his grip tightening momentarily.

Spock exhaled minutely through his nose. "As I am the only Vulcan aboard the _Enterprise_ -"

"You must be feeling better," Jim interrupted again, slotting his head in the juncture of Spock's neck and shoulder, "if you're getting all literal on me. Good." Jim sniffled and then coughed again and that spark of panic was rising back up in Spock's side as he watched the Human beside him struggling for breath. "Now would-" Jim gasped, "now-would-be a g-great time-"

"Do not speak," Spock ordered firmly, lifting Jim off of him so he could lay him flat on the stone floor.

"Usuall-y my-" Jim choked again and Spock pressed his fingertips to the meld points, grasping in a way he was sure would bruise the Human later. _Swelling usually happens immediately, if at all, I don't unders-_ Jim's eyes slowly slid shut and the tension in his body went slack.

"Breathe," Spock demanded, tilting the Captain's chin up with his free hand. He released his fingers from Jim's face to pinch his nose and pushed a strong breath of air down his throat. He repeated the motion twice, thrice, and then a fourth time before he felt the familiar tingle of the transporter beam crawling down his neck. When he looked up again, they were in the transporter room and Spock immediately sat up, hissing, " _Doctor_."

McCoy shoved Spock out of the way almost violently, stabbing a hypo into the side of Jim's neck. Jim's eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply, shaking hands going to his throat. He took into another gulp of air. "Bones," Jim whispered and then his eyes moved to Spock, fingers twitching in a little wave.

"Come on, you impulsive little thorn-in-my-side," McCoy barked, yanking him up off the floor. "We need to filter the rest of that shit out of your system before your heart explodes. March."

Spock straightened at that, "Doctor, I do not think-"

"Figure of speech," Bones snapped, jabbing a finger at the Vulcan. "You drank it, too, right? Then get your ass to sickbay, too."

"I can assure you, Doctor, I have already begun the processes necessary for removing the drug from my system, and as such, have no need to go to sickbay," Spock said, arching one eyebrow as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Just go, Spock," Jim croaked beside McCoy. "I don't wanna take any chances." He looked to the transporter tech then. "Did everyone else make it back alright...?"

The tech looked vaguely uncomfortable. "All except for Batista, sir."

Jim's lips thinned again and he gave a brusque nod. "Alright, Bones, let's get this over with so I can get back to the bridge."

"Oh, no," McCoy said, tightening his grip on Jim's shoulder. "You show up on my ship with your damn first officer attempting CPR and you don't get to call the shots. You're confined to your quarters for twenty-four hours - and that's _after_ I release you from sickbay."

Jim made a sour face before turning back to Spock. He raised one brow in a meek imitation of his Vulcan First. "Well, Mr. Spock?"

Spock repressed the urge to sigh. Perhaps the drug had a stronger effect on him than he'd realized. "Yes, Captain."

***

Spock was allowed to leave sickbay not even thirty minutes after his arrival; however the Captain had been detained for another six point four two hours before Spock heard his entrance, stumbling his way into their conjoined bathroom and turning on the sonics.

Four and a half minutes after that, Spock heard a small crash and rose from his meditation mat, padding over to the bathroom door. "Captain?" he called out. "Are you well?"

There was another muffled thud and Spock manually overrode the door lock. He strode in and stared down at Kirk half-collapsed outside the shower, one hand braced on the edge of the toilet to keep him upright.

"'M fine," Jim mumbled, still trying to stand up. "Just got a little dizzy, is all."

"Did you withhold these symptoms from Doctor McCoy in order to be released from sickbay?" Spock asked with his usual amount of Vulcan snark, nevertheless moving to assist him into a standing position.

"Wasn't so bad until I got out of the turbolift," Jim insisted, fingers tightening around Spock's bicep momentarily before he released him. "I'm okay now. I'm just gonna sleep it off." He moved around Spock, grabbed the pair of pants on the sink, and tugged them on.

"I would prefer to make sure you arrive safely in your quarters," Spock told him and Jim shot him a strange look, lips twitching as he fought to keep the smile down.

"Yeah alright," he murmured, fingers brushing against Spock's shirtsleeve as he passed. Spock blinked at the contact, but followed him out. Once in his room, Jim fell bonelessly to the sheets before grinning up at the Vulcan. "Safe in my quarters," he quipped as he stretched.

Spock's teeth clenched momentarily before he said, "It was my recommendation to consume the mainosetum and the responsibility of your physical reaction is mine; I will be making a note in my mission report."

Jim's grin fell and he looked up at Spock, pushing himself to a sitting position. "Spock, you may have made the recommendation, but I _am_ the captain. You were right - we had a better chance of getting out of that than with their freaky fireball ceremony. So I had a little trouble breathing at the end there-" Spock shot him the Vulcan equivalent of a withering glare (that is, the narrowing of one eyebrow and slight purse of his lips), "-but it all turned out fine. Look." Jim reached up and offered his forearm to Spock. "You could tell if I was in distress, right?"

Spock contemplated the man's arm for a split-second before lightly settling his fingertips across Jim's skin. His lids lowered. "Your autonomic functions are within the acceptable parameters."

Jim smiled again, a healthy flush sliding up his torso to his face. "That's what I thought," he whispered; Jim twisted his arm so he could brush his hand across Spock's, fingers tickling the Vulcan's palm. His feet slid down to the floor and Jim stood, nose bumping Spock's. "I'm gonna kiss you now," Jim rasped and Spock let out a shiver.

Spock nodded once and allowed himself to fall.

***

When Jim woke the next morning, the first thing his sleep-addled brain noticed was the calculating stare of his dark-eyed first officer.

"It would appear," Spock said slowly, gaze never wavering from Jim's horror-struck face, "that the mainosetum's effects had not yet been completely purged from our systems."

"You're telling me," Jim croaked, hauling himself off the pillow. He closed his eyes and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his lids, rubbing them softly. "Do we have to talk about this? Can you just, I don't know, leave the sexual harassment memo on my desk and I'll sign off on it later?"

"Unnecessary, Captain," Spock replied, already pulling his clothes on. "As I have no intention of filing such report, I will return to my quarters for a brief meditation before alpha shift. You are," Spock looked distinctly uncomfortable for a second, "of course welcome to file your own harassment claim."

"No," Jim said immediately. "No, definitely not. We can just, never talk about this ever again? Uhura is going to kill me."

"You are aware that the Lieutenant and I-" Spock started.

Jim waved him off. "Everyone is aware that you and Lt. Uhura broke up, Spock, but it is like, _so_ against the bro-code to sleep with friends' exes without even a heads up, you know?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "'Bro-code', Captain?" Jim shot him a slightly exasperated look and Spock continued with, "Furthermore, seeing how neither of us planned this congress-" (Jim's expression turned slightly ill) "-in advance, a 'heads up', as you describe it, would not have been possible."

"I'm gonna go get breakfast now," Jim blurted, darting into the bathroom.

"Captain." Spock held back the urge to notate the abruptness of the subject change. "Unless you wish for me to enter into the corridor to return to my rooms, I will need you to vacate the restroom."

"It's not locked," Jim called through the door, "and apparently you've already seen me naked, so it's not like it matters."

"Humans are quite illogical," Spock murmured to himself as he strode through the bathroom.

"The illogical Human heard that!" Jim laughed and Spock quirked his customary brow before slipping into his own rooms.

***

Bones ambushed Jim with a medical tricorder as soon as he got to the mess. "Your progesterone's still a little high," McCoy grumbled softly, staring down at the readings. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

Jim nearly choked on his coffee. _Well, I accidentally slept with my Vulcan first officer last night, thanks for asking!_ "Fine," he answered eventually; Jim shoved a mouthful of eggs into his mouth before he could say anything stupid. "But you would know, seeing how you spent about five hours watching me puke up _nothing_."

"Had to get that shit out somehow, Jimbo," McCoy told him with a grin. He clapped Jim on the shoulder, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I am also pretty sure I changed your meal card from eggs to oatmeal in the morning."

Jim eyed Bones innocently. "Did you? Huh. That's _so_ weird." He stuffed a slice of toast in his mouth and began to chew, thoughts drifting to last night. Shit was about to get supremely awkward, Jim noted glumly, and fought down the heat rising in his cheeks. Best way to fuck up your friendship six ways from Sunday? Sleep with the guy. See: Gary Mitchell, second year.

"You sure you're alright, Jim?" Bones asked, already reaching for his tricorder again.

Jim scowled. "I'm fine. Just a little tired from puking up almost all of my internal organs all last night." He grabbed a strip of bacon and snapped a sarcastic salute. "Well, duty calls."

The amount of awkward that greeted Kirk on the bridge started out in metric tons and snowballed out from there. Spock spent the entirety of alpha shift tight-lipped, blank-faced (even for him), and the one time Jim moved to clap him on the shoulder he very nearly flinched out of his tunic. When Jim had turned back around to slink back to his captain's chair, he caught himself under the scrutiny of Uhura's hawk-stare and fought very hard not to shrink away himself. He took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

Maybe a few hours in engineering would do them both some good.

***

A little over a week (and innumerable hours spent hiding in various dark corners of the _Enterprise_ ) later, Jim took a moment to himself to wonder if maybe he and Spock should've talked after all. Things seemed... distant between them. While his first officer hadn't made any overt attempts to avoid him, it was almost as if a switch had been flipped between them - as if they'd taken two steps back in their friendship and Jim had nowhere to grab at but open air. It was like trying to cross a bottomless chasm with him at one end and Spock at the other.

Jim frowned at his own melodrama, pushing the bowl in front of him off to the side. He was allowed to miss his friend, damn it.

"Wait, were you _actually_ eating oatmeal?" Bones asked, plopping down in the seat across from him. "No hacked eggs or bacon today?"

As if on cue, a sharp pain laced through Jim's lower abdomen; he grimaced. "No thanks," Jim muttered, "my stomach's been bothering me the past few days."

"Maybe if you didn't eat all that replicated fried shit, it wouldn't come back to bite you in the ass," McCoy told him around a sip of juice, but he stilled as Jim's face scrunched slightly. "Jim, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Bones," he insisted, hunching over. "It's cool, I'll be fine in a minute."

Bones shook his head and stood. "Come on down to sickbay and I'll give you a hypo. You been gettin' enough fiber?"

Jim made a face. "Why do you think I was eating oatmeal?" he grumbled as he followed suit, smoothing the tension from his face. "I can't: alpha shift starts in ten minutes and I don't have time to make a trip down for a hypo."

McCoy thwacked him lightly on the arm. "You really want to subject your crew to eight plus hours of you whining about your stomachache? You can be a few minutes late, it's fine."

And if Jim's easy acquiescence to McCoy's reasoning wasn't an indication something was wrong, the readings that appeared on the medical tricorder he swiped over Jim were. "Lie back," Bones ordered gruffly, already moving to jab a finger at the intercom. "McCoy to the bridge."

"Bones, _what_?" Jim squawked, moving to get off the biobed.

"Sit your stubborn ass down," Bones snapped just as Spock's voice filtered through the small speaker.

"Spock here."

"Jim's gonna be late for his shift - doctor's orders," McCoy continued, ignoring Jim's continued insistences that he was _fine_ Bones, and what the fuck? "I'll call you back when I know when."

There was a pause and then: "Very well. Spock out."

Jim frowned, his eyebrows knitting tightly together. "What the hell was that all about?"

Bones pointed to the monitor above Jim's bed. "Jim, your heartrate's at one fifty, your blood pressure's nearing levels of hypotension, and while your temperature and brain activity aren't too abnormal, they're well outside _your_ norms." His voice lost its normal gruffness, and McCoy quietly said, "Sit back down, Jim."

Jim nodded dumbly, lying back against the biobed, and offered his elbow up for Bones to take a blood sample. 

"How long's your stomach been bothering you?" he asked, feeding it into the tricorder and frowning at the results. He tossed it to the side and grabbed another one from a drawer.

"Not too long, maybe like four days?" Jim's lips twitched when Bones grabbed his arm again.

"Your hormones are all over the place," Bones muttered, flicking a finger at the tricorder. "They can't both be off." He turned back to Jim. "When's the last time you had a bowel movement?" Jim made a face. "Come on, _Captain_ , now's not the time for modesty."

Jim sighed. "I don't know, maybe a week ago?"

McCoy's eyebrow crawled up his forehead in mild alarm. "Jesus kid, hold on, let me-" He pressed his fingers against Jim's lower stomach.

Jim let out a hiss. " _Ow_ , Bones."

Bones picked up a third tricorder, pulling up a new screen and scanning it over his abdomen. "Jim, you've got some kind of growth on your colon."

" _What_?" Jim started to get up again and Bones pushed him back down.

"If you try to get up one more time I am going to strap you down," McCoy threatened, pointing a finger in warning at Jim. His eyes swept back to the tricorder and he cursed. "You're gonna have to miss your shift entirely, kid. Possibly the next few shifts, too."

"What's going on?" Jim asked him, suddenly steel-faced.

"Don't know," McCoy answered, moving back to the intercom. "I'm gonna have to open you up and poke around. McCoy to the bridge."

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" Spock's response came noticeably quicker this time.

"Shuffle the next few days' shifts around," McCoy answered without really answering. "The Captain's officially on medical leave."

"Doctor?"

"Have a good day, Mr. Spock," McCoy told him, then flipped the intercom to a different frequency. "Nurse Chapel, I'm going to need you to assist."

"Everything's gonna be fine, Jim," McCoy promised him.

Jim wasn't so sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, innumerable thanks to Kiri for doing _science_ with me B| You're an irreplaceable asset, my dear  <3

The lights had been lowered by the time Jim woke next and he noted with no small amount of suspicion that he'd been moved to a private room. He eyed the clock overhead and frowned. _0324_. Shit. How long had he been out?

As if sensing his patient's return to the world of consciousness, McCoy appeared, his face set in a tight frown.

"Bones," he croaked, and immediately grimaced, reaching for the cup of water he knew would be on the table beside him. He took a slow sip. "What's the verdict?"

McCoy sighed heavily, thunking down into the chair beside the bed. He stared at Jim and his eyebrows furrowed softly. "Do you remember," he started quietly, "last week when that flower screwed your system all to hell? And I told you to call me when you were done ovulating?"

Jim sat up so sharply he nearly gasped, hand flying to his stomach. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, fighting to keep his jaw from dropping.

"Well," Bones continued with an empty sort of humor, "you're definitely not ovulating anymore."

Something reached deep into his stomach and clenched into a fist, his organs twisting and turning. "Bones-" he whispered, voice catching.

"I did some more research on the mainosetum," Bones continued, setting a PADD on Jim's lap. "Apparently, in addition to a form of 'truth serum'," and Bones scoffed then, "it was also used in ancient fertility rituals. The flower's got a real knack for giving what were supposed to be barren women healthy pregnancies."

"Oh and that includes _spontaneous organ growth_?" Jim hissed, staring down at his abdomen. "You're telling me I'm-?"

"Congratulations," Bones whispered and, after a hesitation, squeezed Jim's shoulder for comfort. "First male pregnancy on record."

"In case you missed the memo, Bones," Jim said, trying to swallow down his growing hysteria, "I don't have a vagina. The last time I had sex-" And oh, oh, Jim was in _so much deep shit_ , "-I was getting fucked in the ass. Nowhere in that equation is there room for _baby-making_."

"That's what was on your colon," McCoy replied none-too-comfortably. "What Chapel and I could gather from it is that it resembled some sort of fallopian tube. Jim, I didn't know what to do," he continued, finally breaking his gaze. "It's not like there's some kind of set standards for this whole thing; I didn't know what you'd want to do with it-"

"Get rid of it," Jim said immediately and Bones quickly squashed that geeky little science-loving glint in his eye that so reminded him of Spock. _Motherfucker_. "I'm a starship captain. Forget about that, can you even see me as a parent in _any_ fashion? I can't keep it."

Jim took a deep breath to continue, but Bones murmured, "I can't Jim. I just spent nearly a whole shift rooting around in your guts - I can't give you anything to upset that balance until you heal some more." He ruffled Jim's hair, a time reminiscent of their academy days when Bones would bitch at him for drinking too much but give him the right hypo anyway. "I'll take a look at your vitals in the morning and we'll take it from there, okay?"

Jim nodded, feeling a bit hollow as he gingerly shuffled back down, nearly shoving the neglected PADD to the floor. Jim scowled and dropped it on the table beside him. "Alright," he said eventually. After Bones left, as Jim was drifting down into a fitful rest, something warm bloomed in his abdomen. It was for the briefest of moments, but Jim felt calmer than he had all week.

***

"It's sentient," Jim blurted the next morning when Bones came to check on him.

Bones raised an eyebrow. "Never pegged you for the religious type. I mean, yeah, that's what I believe but-"

"No I mean, it's literally," Jim made a waving motion at his stomach, "sentient. It's uh," _shitshitshitshit_ , "okay so the whole fertility ritual thing. What if I told you when I left sickbay last week, I wasn't feeling entirely... myself."

Bones snorted and told him, "No shit."

"And neither was Spock," Jim finished in a miserable whisper, staring down at the floor. A beat of silence passed, and then two, and finally when Jim looked up, he saw the most terrifying expression of joy on McCoy's face.

"Spock knocked you up?" Bones asked quietly, eyes wide, lips pulled back in a grin. "That robot got it up and put a telepathic bun in your oven?" He held a hand up. "I need a moment."

"Can we get back to the matter at hand, _Dr. McCoy_?" Jim hissed, pressing chilled hands to his face to fight the blush threatening to overtake it.

"This is the best day of my life," Bones sighed as he practically floated back in his chair. "Oh my _God_. Okay, okay," he sniffled a bit at Jim's glare, "right options, okay. You can terminate it, Jim, it's really okay. Honestly, it might be your best bet. I don't know what exactly that shit did to your insides, but your body wasn't built to handle this. This uterus you got hanging out inside of you might not even be capable of sustaining anything. And you are right - you've still got a career ahead of you. A baby's one of those full-time gigs that are hard enough without captaining a starship to boot."

Jim looked faintly ill for a second. "Okay. So what are my other options?"

"You could carry it to term," Bones said with a shrug, "set it up for adoption. What with you carrying a little quarter-hobgoblin around, I'm sure the Vulcans would be lining up around the block to adopt it. If you tell Spock and he wants custody rights, he could adopt it. You could also keep it for yourself, Jim." McCoy's eyes softened. "Havin' a kid is great, okay? But it's hard work. You'd have to tell Starfleet, but they can't fire you for it. I'd have to contact New Vulcan to see if they'd let me access Amanda Grayson's medical records - God, the first male pregnancy with a Vulcan hybrid. You are gonna be a fun test subject, Jim."

"Thanks, Bones," Jim said with a scowl, "really appreciate it. I guess this is the part where you tell me I gotta tell Spock?"

McCoy's eyebrow twitched. "You start datin' him when I wasn't lookin'?"

"Bones, we haven't so much as played a damn chess game in over a week," Jim told him and couldn't quite keep the whine out of his voice. "I'm not even sure we're friends anymore," he admitted glumly.

With another soft look in his eyes, Bones reached forward a gave Jim a one-armed hug. "Yeah, okay, just treat him like any other sperm donor then. You don't have to tell him shit. And if you do tell him," he pulled back to shoot Jim a serious look, "he doesn't have any say in what you do. It's your body we're mucking around in, okay?"

After another long silence, Jim nodded and Bones mimicked the gesture. "Alright. So, what do you wanna do, Jim?"

Jim sighed noisily through his nose. "Can I think about it for a day or two?"

McCoy's lips twitched in a little half-smile. "Take all the time you want. Want me to give you some vitamins for the meantime?" Jim nodded again. "Alright. I'll make a discreet note in your file that only Christine and I can access. We're gonna have to figure out what you can and can't have if you do decide to keep it. Your vitals are already all over the charts, but it seems to be caused by your little passenger there rather than any serious medical issue. God, I need to put in a transmission to New Vulcan." Bones caught Jim's deer-in-the-headlights look and held up a hand. "Just a precaution, Jim. If you do want it, I want to make sure we aren't sitting around twiddling our thumbs for God knows how long while we wait for our message to travel through deep space."

There was a knock at the door and then Christine poked her head in. "Mr. Spock is back again," she whispered, sending a little wink in Jim's direction, whose lips pulled back into an easy grin. Jim winked back and something twitched in his stomach; he stared down at it with a tiny frown. "Excuse you," he muttered.

Christine let out a little laugh. "Should I tell him to come back later, or...?"

Bones shook his head with a sigh. "He's already been here about ten times since Jim's operation." He shot a wary look back at Jim. "You up for visitors?"

Jim had probably agreed too quickly to be healthy. He leaned back against the pillows. "Sounds good," he murmured, fingers twitching against the blanket.

Spock walked in after that and stood by the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. "How are you, Captain?" he asked.

"I told you, his appendix just burst," McCoy said gruffly on his way out. "Let me go get you your hypo, Jim."

Jim couldn't help the soft smile that spread over his face as he turned back to his first officer. "I'm just fine, Mr. Spock. I'm sorry to have stuck you by yourself so suddenly."

"It was an unplanned medical emergency," Spock disagreed with a slight incline of his head. _No shit_ , Jim thought to himself with a snort. Spock continued with, "The doctor tells me you will be able to retire to your quarters by sixteen hundred hours?"

Jim perked at that. "Really?"

"For _bed rest_ ," McCoy called out, returning with a small collection of hypos. He stabbed them into Jim's soft, unsuspecting neck one after the other. "And yes, sixteen hundred hours if there are no more complications."

Jim looked at Bones and nodded. "Sounds good," he repeated, turning back to Spock with another grin. "So how's the ship? You didn't take her on any crazy joyrides while I was out, did you?"

"I can assure you, Captain, I derived no emotion from performing my expected duties," Spock responded with a raise of his brow. "If you have no other obligations, would you be amenable to a game of chess at nineteen hundred hours?"

Jim swallowed a tingle of indigestion. "If you can rescue me from Bones' evil clutches, I would be amenable to ten games of chess."

Spock's lips pursed in a way Jim had begun to realize was the Vulcan's attempt biting back a grin. "Generous, but unnecessary, Captain." He began to turn towards the door again, pausing mid-motion. "I am... gratified to see you well, sir," he finished, stepping out shortly after. 

"I missed you too, Spock," Jim called cheerily to the man's retreating back.

***

Sixteen hundred hours came and went, Jim reluctantly allowed to return to his quarters on the condition that he sit on the damn bed and let his damn incision finish healing.

Not that Jim really listened to Bones when he started talking about stupid things like _resting_. Instead, he found himself crawling around the more deserted areas of the ship, his brain running laps, circling the issue at hand.

It was the most ridiculously idiotic situation Jim could have ever imagined himself in - and that was including the time he'd been abducted by reptilian hexapedes and been locked up so long he'd actually started to contemplate what it would be like to live as a pleasure slave on whatever slimeball planet they'd throw him on.

His stomach tingled, right below his incision, and Jim frowned. It was barely a lump of cells; Jim was going to lose his goddamn mind if he kept attributing every twitch of his gut to something that wasn't medically, physically, _anything_ possible.

Jim switched his course abruptly and stalked to the observation deck. There was a small group of off-duty ensigns sitting in one corner, so Jim squished himself in the opposite one, forearms braced on the ledge, staring out as the stars passed at warp speed.

"Heard you played hooky last shift," Uhura mentioned, sauntering beside Jim and throwing her elbows on the ledge, as well. She flicked a look at him out of the corner of her eye. "Did everything go alright? Dr. McCoy said your appendix burst."

The corner of Jim's mouth twitched, but he kept his eyes on the scenery outside. "Nothing too terrible; I'll be off bed rest in another day or two, so don't get comfortable."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Uhura shot back with a grin of her own. Then she laced her fingers together and Jim barely had time to brace himself before she slowly asked, "So you and Spock kissed and made up, then, I take it?"

Jim snorted. "There was hardly anything to make up about, Lieutenant."

"So the whole bridge crew and I just imagined the chilled, formal behavior on duty this past week?" Uhura raised her eyebrow and damn it, his whole damn crew was obviously taking lessons on that from his Vulcan First. "Not to mention you both retreated to your own corners off duty instead of your regular displays of childish machismo." When Jim declined to answer again, Uhura nudged him with her shoulder. "What's wrong, Kirk? Did Mommy and Daddy have a fight?"

Jim's stomach churned. "Have you ever wanted kids?" he asked suddenly, keeping his gaze steadfastly _not_ on Uhura.

Uhura blinked and said, "Not really. I still have a career ahead of me. It's bad enough dealing with you guys - you're worse than children sometimes." She bumped him again, trying to get a response. "Kirk, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Uhura," Jim said with a sigh. "I just have a lot on my mind. Wait, shit, what time is it?" He eyed the chronometer and tore himself away from the window. "Shit. I gotta go."

He managed to catch Spock in the corridor. "Sorry, sorry," he said, pressing a hand to the now-itching incision. "I let time get away from me. Chess?"

"Captain." Spock's disapproving eyebrow twitch appeared. "I was under the impression you were supposed to be resting in your quarters."

"Honestly, the day that McCoy can keep me in a bed when I'm not drugged to my gills in painkillers is the day you should really be worried," Jim quipped, plucking in his authorization code. "After you, Mr. Spock."

Spock glanced at Jim for a moment, as if debating whether or not to make a comment on the lack of amphibious organs on his persona, then strode purposefully into Jim's cabin as if they hadn't just spent a week and change doing the awkward turtle dance around each other.

And despite the fact that conversation flowed and their game was as challenging as ever, Jim found himself consciously avoiding the Vulcan's touch. When previously he'd clap Spock on the shoulder, or tap the toe of his boot to the other man's shin, now Jim was actively averting contact altogether. Jim silently wondered, with no small amount of misery, if Spock was doing the same.

When Spock finally wrenched his queen from him, Jim sat back, throwing an arm over the back of his chair. "I know I said I didn't want to talk about it," he started quietly, "but should we? I mean, it hasn't caused a problem on the bridge-" _yet_ , his mind traitorously supplied, "-but I kind of miss my friend."

Spock stilled and sat there silently for a few beats. Then he opened his mouth and said, "Captain. Jim. You cannot understand the... shame I felt at allowing that side of me to be seen. Such intimacy is a private, nearly sacred thing among Vulcans. That I have done these things with not one, but two people outside of a mating bond-" Spock clenched his jaw, still staring at Jim's fallen queen. "It is reprehensible."

"Spock." The Vulcan looked up at him, and Jim forced back the Human need to comfort him. "You and Uhura dated for over a year: you loved her. And with me, well, you were drugged." And didn't that just leave a sour taste in his mouth? Jim Kirk, ladies man, alright. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You're half Human, too." Jim hesitated, then decided _fuck it_ , and said, "That might mean you're just going to have to figure out what it all means to _you_ , not just Vulcan culture in general."

Spock did not speak for another indeterminable amount of time. Then, "Perhaps."

Jim shook his head and reached up to firmly grasp Spock's shoulder, careful to avoid any skin-to-skin contact. "You're not a whore," he told Spock definitively, giving a light squeeze. Jim tightened his jaw, then continued with, "Do you want to transfer off? You're the best first officer anyone could ask for; any ship would be lucky to have you. If you aren't comfortable with me anymore, then that's completely fine - I'll put in the paperwork immediately."

Spock did not shrug off Jim's hand, but he did not return the gesture, either. "You are my friend, Jim," he said at last. "I would not choose to be anywhere else but here on the _Enterprise_."

Jim's answering smile was only a fraction wobbly. "Good. I wouldn't want you anywhere else, either."


	3. Chapter 3

"There is literally no rational reason I should keep this thing," Jim announced as he strode into McCoy's office.

"Jesus, Jim, anyone ever teach you how to keep a secret?" Bones growled, nevertheless waving him in. "What if I'd been with a patient?"

Jim shrugged and gave an easy grin. "Chapel said you were by yourself," he said, gently easing into the chair there. He sighed. "I have my job to think about. I don't have time for an experimental pregnancy and I don't know the first thing about kids." Then he winced, his hand twitching over his stomach.

McCoy scowled. "How's your incision?" he asked and immediately circled around to lift Jim's shirt up. "Okay, I can get you in after alpha shift. There are pills you can take, but with that alien voodoo uterus you got inside you, I'm not sure how safe that would be; I'd have to cut you back open." When Jim didn't say anything, Bones peered back up at him suspiciously. "Jim?"

"I don't have a rational reason," Jim said, soft and slow, as if bracing for impact, "but I think I-" Jim dropped his gaze, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "When am I gonna get another chance to have a kid? It'd have to be with someone outside of work, and I'd never get to be there for the kid." His eyes unfocused for a moment, as if he were looking somewhere else entirely. "I've got a little more than two years left in my contract - it'd still be a baby then, I could probably convince the brass to let me stay on as captain. Hell, I've even got enough medical leave I could probably slip off somewhere to have the thing." He buried his face in his hands. "Fuck, Bones, I don't know what to do," he finished roughly. "My mom managed to raise two kids and stay in space."

"Please tell me that's not your best argument," Bones grumbled; he set a gentle hand on Jim's back. "My personal feelings about Winona aside, she wasn't a captain. Jim, are you sure you want to do this?"

"I can feel it, Bones," Jim whispered, head still bowed. "I know that sounds stupid, or hormonal, or what _ever_ , but it's there. I can't do it."

"We've still got time, Jim," McCoy said softly. "Plenty of time to figure out what you want to do. In the meantime-" Bones got up and reached into a desk drawer, pulling out an assortment of hypos. He grinned, jabbing them into Jim's neck almost viciously. "Hormones and copper supplements. If you do want to keep the little goblin, you're gonna need to start taking a whole bunch of prenatal vitamins."

Jim hissed and rubbed his neck gingerly. "You couldn't have put those supplements into one hypo?" he bitched.

"I could've," Bones said with a grin. "Think of it as divine justice."

"You are the worst chief medical officer I've ever met," Jim groaned, finally straightening. "So what now?"

"You tellin' Spock?" Bones asked, grabbing the PADD on his desk.

Jim thought back to last night, and the entire week before. "No," he said decisively. "No, he doesn't need this shit. Not yet, at least. It'll be a little hard to convince him it's not his when he sees the ears." Jim paused. "Is it going to have pointy ears?"

Bones barked out a laugh. "Most likely. Vulcan traits seem to be the dominant ones. Alright," he made a little note, "do you mind if I tell M'Benga? Until we get word back from New Vulcan, he's our only go-to Vulcan doctor."

"Yeah." Jim breathed out softly. "Yeah, M'Benga's fine."

"I'm updating your medical file," Bones told him. "so when it gets to Starfleet, you're gonna have to strap on your bargaining boots. They can't fire or demote someone for being pregnant, but they can sure as hell try to ground you or even ship you off to poke and prod you and figure out what makes you tick." Jim's skin took on a sickly color and McCoy held up a hand. "I'm not gonna let that happen, Jim. I'm just givin' you worst case scenario. Oh," Bones' eyes glittered suddenly, "you're definitely not going to have any choice in the meal plan I'm giving you."

"I have to pee," Jim blurted, standing and making his way towards the door.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of pregnancy, Jim!" McCoy cheerily called. "Should I call the ex up so you two can swap stories?"

"You're an ass," Jim told him with a not-quite-grin, then manually slammed the door in McCoy's face.

***

Jim glared weakly at McCoy across the table, chin propped on his knuckles.

Bones, meanwhile, looked wholly unimpressed. "That's your meal plan until further notice, Jim. I'm not changing it."

If anything, Jim's stare intensified in its ire. "It's not that," he mumbled into his fingers. "It's my," Jim waved his free hand in front of him, "my chest. It's _sore_."

Bones raised a brow, but his eyes took on a serious glint. "Are you feeling any tightness or respiratory distress?"

"No, no," Jim insisted, cheeks darkening. He cursed into his fist. "It's my nipples. They've been hurting all week and they're... changing colors. Getting darker."

Bones bit down on his lip hard. "Did you read the book I gave you at all, Jim?" he managed with a moderately straight face.

"Yes," Jim answered with a weak grimace. "It's so gross, Bones, why do people do this?"

"So their best friends can laugh at them." McCoy smirked and clapped Jim on the shoulder. "Eat, Jim. Not deviating from your meal plan also means eating _everything_ on it."

Jim made a face and shoved the rest of his bagel in his mouth. "Alpha starts in twenty, I gotta go. I have never needed to pee so much in my _life_."

"You're only three weeks in, just wait," McCoy promised - or threatened; Jim was never really sure.

"Trust me," he said, wrinkling his nose. "I'm well aware. I _did_ read those articles, you know."

Bones nodded thoughtfully; Jim stood and turned to leave, wiping a stray crumb from his face. "So..." Jim looked over again at McCoy's low tone. "Am I gonna need to remake your meal plan anytime soon?" he asked gruffly, eyes darting around to see if anyone was listening.

Jim let out a slow breath. "Nah. If I can become the youngest captain in Starfleet history, I can totally handle this."

"Overestimating your abilities, are you, Captain?" Bones asked with a grin.

"Not even a little," Jim said as he twirled around, nearly bumping into his first officer. "Mr. Spock!" He smiled brightly. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Captain," Spock said with a slight incline of his head. "Are you on your way to the bridge?"

Jim nodded. "Just gotta make a pitstop, Mr. Spock," he said and circled around Spock carefully, already eyeing the door to the restroom. "Wanna walk together?"

"Don't forget - seventeen thirty, Jim," Bones reminded him; Jim flashed the doctor a dazzling smile that only seemed half-sarcastic.

"That would be agreeable, Captain," Spock replied as if the other Human hadn't spoken. After Jim had disappeared, Spock turned back to McCoy. "Is the Captain well, Doctor?" he asked.

"Just fine - ship's business is all," McCoy answered. He took a sip from his coffee cup and grimaced. "Useless, replicated sludge," he muttered.

"And yet you persist in drinking it," Spock retorted with a quirk of his brow.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, you tea-drinking robot," Bones grumbled.

"Why, thank you, Doctor."

"Getting along nicely, boys?" Jim teased as he returned. "Mr. Spock?"

Spock nodded. "Certainly, Captain."

Their walk to the bridge was comfortable, as if they'd never fallen out of sync, and Jim could've sighed in relief. However, when they stepped out of the turbolift, Uhura was immediately at their sides, voice pitched low. "Captain, there's a transmission from Admiral Pike marked urgent," she whispered, her posture carefully relaxed. "The request came in a little after oh-seven-hundred and again a few minutes ago."

Jim blinked and licked his lips. Shit. "I'll take it in my cabin. Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

"Captain?" Spock started cautiously.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Thank you, Lt. Uhura, if you could tell the Admiral I'll be there momentarily," Jim told her, already turning back to the lift.

Jim wasn't sure what exactly he'd been steeling himself for, but it was still a bit of a sting when Pike immediately barked, "Is this some kind of practical joke?" 

Jim cleared his throat, then plastered on a bright grin. "Good morning, Admiral! Is what a joke?"

"Don't get cute with me, Kirk," Pike snapped, mouth tightening. "I don't know if you hacked into your medical records or if you pissed somebody off and _they_ hacked into your medical records, but-"

"Nobody hacked into my medical records, sir," Jim said, keeping his gaze steady on Chris. "Whatever changes made to my medical records should have been done by Dr. McCoy and should therefore be accurate."

Pike opened his mouth, and then shut it audibly. "Is there something you need to tell me, Captain Kirk?" he asked in a strange voice.

Jim's will broke and stared down at his clasped hands. "Three weeks ago, when we were in the Antarabi system, one of our away team accidentally offended the natives, so my first officer and I had to consume a drink made of the mainosetum flower."

"The truth serum flower," Pike piped up, nodding along as if he'd just read the report. Maybe he had, Jim thought grimly; he wasn't sure how close an eye the Admiral normally kept on Jim, but with the change to his medical status, maybe he'd gone digging.

"Dr. McCoy thought I had an allergic reaction to it at the time," Jim continued, finally looking back up and locking eyes with Pike, "but it apparently instigated some type of-" Shit, what was it Bones had said? "-hormonal change. It caused a growth on my colon. This should all be in the doctor's medical report," Jim continued, spine still straight despite how shaky he felt. 

"It is," Pike said slowly. "So... what? You grew a pair of ovaries and got shit-faced on shore leave?" He braced his arms on his desk and sat forward. "Did it do the same thing with Spock?"

"Not exactly," Jim replied, "and I don't think so. He was mainly fine after leaving sickbay." _Mainly_. Right. "We haven't exactly figured out why it did what it did to me in particular."

Chris sighed deeply through his nose. "Do I even want to ask who the - father? Mother? Spontaneously sex-changing fertile alien lifeform is? Is this thing even compatible with the human biology?"

"It's humanoid," Jim mumbled through gritted teeth, "and I'd rather not disclose the identity of the other-" father/sperm donor/officer? "-person as of yet."

"This isn't going to cause a scandal, is it, Jim?" Chris asked.

"God no, what, you think I'd sleep with one of my own ensigns or someone underage?" Jim snapped; he smacked his lips and swallowed. Ugh. "No, I'm not trying to start a Starfleet shitstorm."

"They never are." Chris sighed. "Christ, kid. I didn't think you were the child-rearing type."

"Trust me," Jim said sourly; his stomach began to churn, "neither did I." Jim pulled on a daring grin suddenly. "But hey, second generation baby born in space. I was thinking of starting a tradition."

Pike choked on a laugh. "You're serious about this," he noted, somewhat awestruck.

"What's more serious than having a kid?" Jim joked, the tension in his spin slowly relaxing. "It's not going to affect my job."

Chris snorted. "Oh, I know; that's one thing you've got going on in your favor. I'm gonna have a field day talking to the other Admirals about this. Shit," he laughed again, "I'm way too young to be a grandfather."

Something warm and gooey seeped into every pore of Jim's skin and his lips pulled back in wide, jittery grin. "Personally, I think you're pushing into the 'too old' territory myself," he said lightly, shoving his hands in his lap.

"Watch it, brat," Chris told him sharply, eyes crinkling at the corners, "or I'll forward all of my video conferences with Nogura straight to you."

"Please no," Jim gasped around another laugh. "The man already hates my guts."

Chris quirked a brow. "Hate is such a strong word," he said teasingly and sat back in his chair, sighing. "Well, congratulations, Jim. I'm happy for you, strange medical phenomena and all. I'll send you another transmission once the other Admirals and I have spoken."

"Can't wait," Jim replied, pleased his voice only cracked a little bit. Chris ended the transmission and the warmth returned, pooling down in his lower abdomen. Jim stared down at his stomach and made a face.

Damn hormones.

***

"Finally got a response back from New Vulcan," Bones said, staring down at the results on his tricorder. "Your copper's still a little low; figured you wouldn't need as much seein' how the little thing's mostly human, but I guess not. Any stomach pains or bleeding from anywhere? Cramping?" he continued as he made another notation in his PADD.

"Nope, just a whole lotta peeing and the urge to nap on every soft cushion I pass. So, New Vulcan?" Jim prompted, smacking away Bones' tricorder. "How many readings do you need to take, you sadist? What did the Vulcans say?" he repeated, enunciating egregiously. "The _Vulcans_."

Bones scowled. "Those secretive little bastards aren't going to share unless we tell them why we need the information. Which is going to be fun to weasel our way around if we're keeping your First in the dark."

With a frown, Jim suggested, "One of your interns is writing a paper about the biology of Vulcans?"

"You think I didn't already try that, moron?" Bones snarked. He rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna see if M'Benga does any better with them first - he is all buddy-buddy with the pointy-eared bastards, after all." He flicked a hand to the biobed. " Almost done: I just want to make sure your uterus hasn't shifted anywhere since last week before you go. Lie back."

Jim sighed heavily, but complied. As McCoy ran the tricorder over his abdomen, Jim groaned, "Human beings should not have to pee this much."

"Women have been doing this since the dawn of time, Jim," McCoy told him with a shoulder pat. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah, yeah, just hypo me and get it over with, you cranky bastard," Jim grumbled as he sat back up.

"Who's cranky now?" Bones asked gleefully, grabbing two hypos from the side table. "Come on, you little Vulcan fetus, time for your copper," he sang and stabbed Jim in the neck.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Jim hissed on the second hypo. "What was that one?"

"Folic acid," Bones replied, his grin even wider than before. "Now get, mama, and enjoy your evening off. No wrestling or hopping all over the gym like you do - and eat something, damn it, don't think I didn't notice you skipped lunch."

"Yes, dear," Jim simpered, hopping off the biobed. "Join me in the mess?"

Bones shook his head. "Got some more stuff to do before I'm done for the day. No thanks to you," he said with a smirk; Jim's responding grin was quite shameless. "I'll let you know if M'Benga has any more luck."

"Thanks Bones." Jim grinned. "See you tomorrow."

"Only because I have to," Bones called to Jim's retreating back.

Jim bumped into Uhura outside the mess. "Hey Uhura," he practically chirped. "Have you eaten yet?"

Her eyebrow was a near-perfect imitation of Spock's as her lips twisted in slightly baffled amusement. "I was just about to. Would you like to join me, Captain?"

"I would love to," Jim answered, already ushering her over to the replicators. "Anything interesting happen after I left the bridge this morning?"

"Not particularly," Uhura answered with that same puzzled smile. "Did your talk with Pike go well?"

"Why does it sound like you're trying to ask if he ripped me a new one?" Uhura's mouth puckered and her eyes crinkled; Jim laughed again. "One of these days you're going to willingly admit you think I'm hot shit."

"You'll need to pinch yourself then, Kirk, because you'll be dreaming," Uhura told him sweetly, picking up her own tray and zeroing in on the empty table in the corner.

Jim followed suit, dropping down in the seat across from her, but when Uhura peeled the lid from her bowl, Jim nearly gagged. "Oh my god," he gasped, turning his head slightly to the side. "What _is_ that?"

Uhura raised her eyebrow again. "It's curry. You eat it all the time when you think Leonard won't catch you." Then she bent over and sniffed her food. "It smells fine to me."

"If you say so," Jim managed after a moment; he took a deep breath. "Shit. I'll stick to my," he sighed, "whatever this is, thanks."

Uhura peered over at Jim's plate. "Looks like some kinda squash dish," she noted. "Following the doctor's meal plan? What happened to hacking all the fried chicken you could eat?"

The mere suggestion made Jim's stomach turn. "I gotta keep my figure somehow," he told her with a wink; Uhura rolled her eyes, but started eating with a fond shake of her head.

Scotty popped over just as Jim's insides stopped flopping, an equally foul-smelling dish on his own plate. Jim pinched his nose and held a hand up. "Wow, that is nasty, Scotty: absolutely terrible," he moaned.

Scotty just grinned and took the seat Uhura offered beside her. "I finally programmed haggis into the replicators. Innit delicious?" He bent over his tray and inhaled deeply. "Smells like home."

"If home smells like a barn, yeah," Jim said tightly. "And I would know: I grew up on a farm."

Uhura held back her laugh, but just barely. "Again with the farm animals, Kirk," she sighed. "I thought we were done with that phase."

"I feel like I'm missin' somethin'," Scotty said slowly.

"Nothing important, Scotty," Uhura assured him with a wave of her hand.

"Good times," Jim quipped, shoving another bite of squash in his mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

The mission wasn't supposed to be anything special: a routine little visit to Selif IV to welcome them in as part of the Federation. Literally, all they had to do was go down, have dinner, make nice, and show the Selifans how grateful they were to be there (and if had Jim noticed it seemed like Pike was throwing all the cushy assignments his way, well, there was only so much of a fuss he could make without bringing certain things to light). As far as easy missions went, this should've taken the cake.

Jim first noticed something was amiss about halfway through the tour of their capital. While the touches were neither lingering nor uncomfortable, after about the third brush of leather padded fingertips and tenth whisper of a tail across his skin, Jim was ready to scream. There was an unpleasant twinge in his stomach and Jim resisted the urge to hiss _stop it hormones_.

Jim was going insane.

When they reached the courtyard outside the Selifan Embassy, two children skidded by on all fours playing what appeared to be a game of Terran tag. Suddenly one of them straightened, eyes sharpening and locking onto Jim. She stood, her joints popping audibly, and Jim bit back a grimace as she loped over, chattering in her native tongue. The other one, also presumably female, joined shortly thereafter, chiding her friend softly before speaking to Jim in stilted Standard. 

"We are so happy for you," she trilled, her tail twitching in excitement. The smaller one chittered something light and so the older girl nodded and agreed, "Yes, a grand celebration."

Jim raised an eyebrow in confusion, but before they could continue, the ambassador stalked over, the fur on her chest slightly ruffled. She gently whispered something in their language, shooing them away with a flick of her wrist.

"Apologies," the ambassador said, her tail sliding across Jim's forearm. "It is a holiday today, so the children are using the lesson break as a chance to play. Shall we continue with the tour?"

The interior of the embassy was just as beautiful, if not more so than the exterior: rich, dark wood stretched from floor to ceiling, the scent reminiscent of Terran pine, the walls painted with bright and playful murals of various scenes of the Selifan culture. As it was their summertime, the tall triangular windows had been left open, various animals flittering through the halls. Spock was fascinated (in his usual stoic, Vulcan way, of course), Uhura was utterly mystified, and even Bones' normal cranky-face had softened a few degrees as they took in the sights. A quick glance to Jim's left showed Chen and Durand (of the Science and Communications department, respectively) to be enjoying themselves, as well.

So why was he the only one getting the fondling-feline treatment?

"Ambassador Meenau," Jim finally said, intercepting the dark quasi-paw before it could glance across his wrist.

The ambassador _purred_ , clasping Jim's hand in both of hers, eyes glittering. "Yes, Captain?" she asked, her voice low and throaty. "How are you enjoying the tour so far?" One of the Meenau's attendants danced behind them to swat at a particularly large butterfly, bracing his hand on the small of Jim's back.

Before Jim could snap at the man, he'd already retreated, offering the insect out for Spock to examine and Uhura to coo at.

"That," Jim hissed with some heat and, with a jerk of his head to his still-encased, explained, "This. Not that I'm not flattered, but Humans usually have a ask-before-you-touch rule and Vulcans especially do not like to be touched without permission."

She blinked, the wide ears on either side of her head twitching slightly. "Yes, we have not touched the Vulcan," the ambassador said in slow Standard, as if she were weighing each word carefully. "We have offended you?"

Jim sighed and lifted a hand to cover hers. "I'm not offended: just confused. None of this was mentioned in the customs texts - is this because I'm the Captain, or...?"

Meenau smiled suddenly, showing off her impressively sharp teeth. "Oh no, we are merely expressing our joy at your conception. Do all males carry the children on Earth?"

" _My_ -?" Jim whipped sharply around to see if anyone was nearby.

"The others have already entered the banquet hall, it seems," Ambassador Meenau explained. Her ears trembled again. "They do not approve?"

"They don't know," Jim said lowly, stomping down on the jolt of panic he felt rising up. "Only my Chief Medical Officer knows. Wait, how do you know?" he asked suddenly. Had his records been leaked? Were there rumors? Jim certainly didn't _look_ pregnant at just shy of four and a half weeks.

"We can smell it on you," she said matter-of-factly; her whiskers twitched. "So it is a surprise?" Meenau continued, fur fluffing out in excitement.

"Yes, exactly," Jim said with a bright smile, "it's a surprise. Could you maybe make a request to the other officials for their silence? I'd hate to ruin such a well-kept secret so soon."

The thick hair on her chest and shoulders lifted again and she surged forward, rubbing her cheeks against Jim's forehead. "I will speak with them immediately," Meenau confirmed. "How could I deny such a sweet request?"

"Captain?"

The ambassador straightened, but Jim could still hear the purr deep in her chest. "Commander Spock," she greeted with a bow. "Is everything alright?"

Spock raised an eyebrow and smoothly stated, "I was merely curious as to where my captain had gone off to. I see that you two were merely conversing; I apologize if I have interrupted."

"Not at all," she rumbled, finally releasing Jim's hands (to his great relief) and gliding forward. She turned back to Jim and said, "I will go inform the chefs of your dietary needs," with a slow, pleased nod. "I shall see you both shortly."

A few moments later, Spock still hadn't said anything, so Jim waved an arm forward, feigning nonchalance despite the dark burning he felt in his cheeks. "After you, Mr. Spock."

Spock nodded and turned on his heel.

***

The Selifans, because they were digitigrades, curled into soft cushions on the floor in lieu of sitting in any type of chair. Watching their thick hind legs bend and fold underneath them was nothing short of baffling, and it was mainly luck more than anything that the head waiter pulled Jim aside before he could gawk.

"The Vulcan - he is the vegetarian, correct?" the man asked deeply, his words reverberating through his chest as he spoke. Jim nodded and the Selifan continued with, "The ambassador has informed me that you have several... allergies?"

Jim nodded again, cracking a tiny grin. "Nothing too serious. Strawberries are the big thing - though I'm not sure if you guys even grow those here, so it should be fine."

His whiskers twitched as his head dipped forward in a nod. "Customarily, we serve raw meats to those with your condition; however, I believe it is not the same for Humans?"

Jim's face twitched in a minute grimace. "Yeah, raw foods are definitely out. Really, though, you don't have to go out of your way to make something different; I'm more than happy to eat what you've prepared for us."

"I'll be the judge of that," Bones grumbled at Jim's side; the chef's ears flicked in amusement.

"Very well," he acquiesced, bowing before slipping off through a curtain.

Jim shot his CMO a look. "It's not gonna kill me to eat their food, Bones; relax," he muttered in a low tone.

"I made your meal plan for a reason, Jim," McCoy snipped back. "It's bad enough you let the transporter screw with your atoms in your state-"

"My _state_?" Jim hissed. "What happened to 'people have been doing this since the dawn of time'?"

"Transporters weren't included in that list." McCoy's scowl deepened and he leaned closer to Jim. "What's gonna happen if that shit breaks down mid-scramble? There's a reason they don't normally let _people in your state_ use transporters after the first month."

"You are overreacting," Jim told him resolutely, and turned back to face the ambassador just in time to see three balls of fluff come barrelling into him. Jim nearly fell out of his cushion, the stiff sleeves of his dress uniform stretching over his biceps as he hastily braced himself. " _What the_ -?"

The little kittens purred and trilled and pressed their tiny paws to Jim's face and torso, tails bouncing in the air, noses bumping Jim's shirt.

" _Children_ ," Meeanu hissed, just as a haggard-looking Selifan dashed through the curtains.

"My most fervent apologies," he whispered, darting forward to scoop the furry beasts up in his arms.

The ambassador raised a hand and silently banished him. Then she turned to Jim and bowed elegantly at the spine. "Please forgive my young ones, Captain," and she sighed long-sufferingly, "they are a handful on the best of days and absolute terrors on the worst."

Jim could practically feel Bones bristling beside him, so Jim waved it off with a laugh. "These things happen, Ambassador," he soothed. "Honestly, this uniform could use a little wear and tear."

Meeanu laughed, a squeaking-type of sound. "I am honored by your generosity," she said warmly; her eyes lit up and she raised her hand, fingers slightly spread as she ushered the servers in. "Without further delay, let us eat."

Jim tucked into his food with his normal amount of gusto, stubbornly keeping his eyes on his plate and not the curious stares of his Vulcan first and communications officer.

***

"You will be pleased to know," M'Benga started with a small smile, "that I was able to gain access to Amanda Grayson's medical records." He ushered Jim into McCoy's office and sat opposite Jim, grabbing a couple of PADDs and setting them in his lap. "Would you prefer to wait for Leonard to get here or just go ahead and start?"

Jim shrugged. "He already knows this stuff, right? Let's just go through it real quick so I can grab something to eat before I start my shift." M'Benga quirked another grin and turned around, grabbing an apple from a small metal cooler behind the desk. "You sure?" Jim asked, already crunching into it. "Thanks, M'Benga."

"It was initially difficult for Lady Amanda to conceive," M'Benga continued, lips twitching, "but was an altogether fairly standard pregnancy. Spock was born at thirty-eight weeks and five days, a comfortable medium between the Vulcan and Human pregnancies. What we're hoping for, since the fetus is mostly Human, is somewhere between thirty-eight and forty weeks. Thirty-eight is normally pushing it for Vulcans, but with your heart in your chest instead of your side, it shouldn't cause any undue strain. You're obviously taking copper supplements in addition to the normal prenatal vitamins, so that's good. I've looked at your abdominal scans and your hormone levels - both are well within normal parameters. Your uterus and all the connecting blood vessels are in good condition. The main concern we have is for your lack of cervix: besides the obvious, without that, there's nowhere for the fluid to go once the amniotic sac bursts. Once you get up to that thirty-eight week mark, we're gonna need to bring you in for bi, maybe tri-weekly checkups."

Jim, almost unconsciously, slid his free hand across his stomach to rest it there.

M'Benga pointed his stylus at Jim. "There's also the telepathic bond to take into consideration."

"Wait, the what?" Jim blurted, sitting up a little straighter.

"It's customary for parent and child to develop a telepathic bond while the fetus is developing," M'Benga explained, flipping over the PADD to show Jim. "Humans are largely psi-null, but the Lady Amanda managed at least a partial bond with Spock." M'Benga's expression turned toward concern. "You haven't felt an increasing awareness of the baby?"

Jim wiggled in his chair uncomfortably. "I... maybe?" Jim frowned, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. "I thought it was just hormones."

"Do you mind if I try something?" M'Benga asked, already rolling his sleeves up. Jim nodded and the doctor crouched down in front of Jim, lifting up the man's shirt and pressing his palm lightly to Jim's stomach. He spread his fingers closed his eyes, and a moment later, something pleasant tingled low in Jim's abdomen.

"Oh," Jim said dumbly. "Like that?"

M'Benga grinned. "That's a touch telepath, alright. There's a good chance you'll experience a bit of telepathic transference, as well, so I'd watch who you touch accidentally. We don't want to cause this little trooper any unnecessary stress, do we?" The warmth came back tenfold and Jim nearly buckled under the pressure of it. "Strong emotions," M'Benga confirmed. "Definitely Vulcan."

Bones arrived then, ranting, "Those damn interns couldn't tell a hypo from a neural monitor if the damn things weren't labeled!" He paused and raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "More Voodoo-Vulcan medicine? You know the damn thing's the size of a blueberry right now, don't you?" he asked, suddenly eyeing Jim's forgotten apple core on the ground. "Really, Jim?" McCoy picked up the core and tossed it in the recycler, then perched himself against his desk. "So, how're your breasts feeling?"

"I do not have breasts," Jim insisted heatedly.

"You're about to," Bones told him with a smirk. "The ex grew almost two cup-sizes when she was pregnant with Jo."

Jim made a noise of distress and stared down at his chest.

M'Benga lifted his eyes to the ceiling for a beat. "I want you to spend a little time each day just focusing on building a bond with the baby. The brain develops a lot more rapidly in a fetus with Vulcan DNA, so you'll notice it more quickly than if the fetus were just Human, but it'll also be a gradual thing. Eventually you should be able to pick up the baby's thought patterns: moods, basic biological wants, and the like."

"Handy," Jim noted; with a reluctant sigh, he stood again, stretching his arms above his head. "Anything else?"

"The main things we gotta keep an eye on are your blood pressure and heart rate," McCoy said as he snatched a chart from M'Benga. "The little hobgoblin's already altered your vitals, but your body seems to be holding up well. If you start feeling dizzy or get any chest or stomach pains, call one of us, okay?"

"You're not going to stop calling it that, are you?" Jim asked, making a face.

" _Okay_?" Bones repeated; he fixed Kirk with a stern glare and Jim broke, holding up his hands.

"Alright, alright, yes, if I feel anything amiss, I'll come straight to sickbay," Jim insisted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to pee. _Again_."

"Before you go," M'Benga started slowly, hesitantly, "in addition to the maternal telepathic bond - paternal, in your case - the... other parent customarily forms a bond with the child. Now," he added quickly at Jim's stricken look, "that is not always the case. However, in most cases, the father of the child knows the exact time of conception because of the mating bond in place. It's mostly instinct - the male must now protect his mate, especially because of how uncomfortable it can get for the female. Even without that mating bond," M'Benga continued gently, "there's still a chance that Commander Spock will know not only that you are pregnant, but that it is his if you two come into any sort of skin-to-skin contact. It's just how Vulcan biology works."

"Great," Jim croaked. "I'll keep that in mind."

"One step at a time, Jim," McCoy reminded him and Jim nodded once before blurting, "I'm gonna puke," and dashing out the door.

***

Jim bit back another burp, pinching his lips tightly together. "Mr. Chekov," he called after a moment, "status report?"

"Ve are currently en route to rendezvous vith ze transport ship _Nagato_ ," Chekov recited dutifully. "ETA is approximately four and a ha'f hours."

"You will find, Mr. Chekov," Spock spoke up, "that our estimated arrival is actually closer to four point four two hours."

Chekov hid the roll of his eyes, but just barely. "Aye, Mr. Spock," he responded.

Beside him, Sulu shifted in his seat, then cautiously turned around to face Kirk. "Not to sound ungrateful for the break, Captain," he started slowly, "but don't you think it's odd that Starfleet's been sending us on just a bunch of milk runs lately?"

Jim tensed, setting his heel firmly on the ground so his leg wouldn't start to bounce. "We all hit our lulls, Mr. Sulu," Jim allowed after a moment. "I'm sure we'll have something exciting to do sooner or later."

Fate never did like to be tempted. About twenty minutes later, a transmission from Admiral Pike came in and Jim pulled it on the viewscreen immediately, a spark of excitement running down his spine. "Admiral, what can I do for you?"

Pike didn't look too happy about it, to be honest. "Change of plans, Kirk," he said. "The _Nagato_ will have to wait - we need you to head over to the outpost on Epsilon Tauri VI. Their communications cut off suddenly and we haven't been able to reach them for a few days. It's probably nothing," he continued, as if he were trying to convince himself, "but you're the closest ship and there've been rumors of Klingons patrolling the area." Pike didn't say anything after that, but Jim could see the tightening of his jaw and the small furrow between his brows.

So Jim grinned and shot a finger gun at Pike. "We're on it, Admiral," he confirmed. "We'll let you know what we find out."

Pike sighed, the action light and exasperated, but his eyes pinned Jim in a serious stare. "Good to hear, Captain. Pike out."

The transmission cut out and Jim gave a discreet fist-pump. _Finally_.

"I find the Human propensity to excitement over certain missions than others to be quite illogical," Spock noted from his station, raising one eyebrow at Kirk.

"Mr. Spock," Jim said with a warm, fond smile, "surely you know by now that Humans are inherently illogical?"

"It is never too late to hope," Spock deadpanned; behind him, Uhura just barely smothered her laughter in her work station.

"Hope, Mr. Spock?" Jim teased. "Careful now, that's a Human emotion."

"An emotion I am quite incapable of, Captain," Spock smoothly retorted.

Jim turned back to Chekov in an effort to hide his grin. "Did the good Admiral send the proper coordinates over, Mr. Chekov?"

"Aye, Keptin," Chekov replied, fingers flying over the console. "'Plotting a course now. ETA is approximately sewen hours, forty-two minutes."

"'Shouldn't be too much of a detour," Jim said, only partially to himself. "Lt. Uhura, if you would send a message to the _Nagato_ and let them know there'll be a small delay? It shouldn't be too much of an issue; their cargo isn't on a time limit."

"Sending now, sir," Uhura confirmed.

"Alright," Jim announced with a grin, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Epsilon Tauri, here we come."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just popping in to give another big thanks to Kiri, who's gone above and beyond to not only listen to me ramble about science and shit at all hours of the day, but has given me the best advice everever when I get stuck and want to cry about this fic :')
> 
> Also, I want to place a HUGE trigger warning on this chapter (the tag "Difficult Pregnancy" definitely comes into play here). This chapter was all sorts of heavy for me to write (and my betas to read).

"Jim, I don't like this," Bones said lowly. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You know what Klingons do when they get ahold of Federation people? They're not going to care if they find out you're pregnant - hell, if anything, it'll make 'em more likely to cut you up."

"Bones, we don't know that there are even any Klingons there." Jim carefully relaxed his fist and hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. "I'm not an invalid: it's only the first trimester and I have a job to do. What am I going to say? 'Oh, sorry Admirals, I _might_ get stabbed by a Klingon, so I can't go'. Do you know how fast they'd take the _Enterprise_ from me?"

"Do you know how often the captain actually accompanies the landing party on _any other_ ship?" Bones snapped back. "Dammit Jim, you're the one that wanted this damn thing! It's bad enough you're still goin' out on that goddamn transporter, but if you're gonna be throwin' yourself around into situations where you can get stabbed or worse I have half a damn mind to confine you to your quarters."

"Dr. McCoy," Jim hissed, voice sharp like steel, "if there is a medical reason you see fit to relieve me of command, then do so now. I already said I would be beaming down with the landing party; it'll look suspicious if I suddenly decide not to go." Jim's glare softened and he ran a hand over his face. "Bones, I won't send any member of my crew into a situation I wouldn't go myself."

McCoy copied the gesture, tired lines spreading across his face. "Jim, we're not just talking about you anymore. You can't be running around shooting at shit or jumping off of _buildings_ -"

"If we pick up any Klingon lifeforms on the sensors," Jim cut in, soft and gentle, "I'll stay on the ship."

"Goddamnit," Bones muttered helplessly into his hands. "Why did I decide to go into space? Why did I become friends with the most idiotic, thrill-seeking, dumbass captain in the 'Fleet?"

"Everything's going to be fine, Bones," Jim said, rubbing soothing circles on McCoy's back. "I'll even let you come with."

"You're damn right I'm coming with," Bones growled. "Now go pee, you stupid, hormonal _moron_."

The door chimed and Bones looked over. "Yeah, yeah, enter," he grumbled.

Spock stepped in, hands behind his back. "Captain, we are now entering orbit around Epsilon Tauri VI; Lieutenant Alden is currently attempting to establish communications, but has so far received nothing but static in return."

Jim smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. Meet in the transporter room in five? I just gotta take care of some business first."

"Oh, Jim." McCoy reached into his cooler and tossed a banana at Jim. "Eat something," he said gruffly. "You're lookin' a little scrawny these days."

Jim rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed put. "Thanks, Bones. Transporter room in five," he reminded them, slipping out around Spock.

Spock hesitated, then: "Doctor," he started slowly, "is the Captain well?"

"Of course he is," McCoy said gruffly. "What gives you that idea?"

"Captain Kirk has visited sickbay with an increasing frequency of approximately sixty-eight percent these past weeks. The Captain also does not normally, voluntarily go to sickbay unless there is a problem." Spock shifted his weight to his other foot and asked, "Is there a problem with Jim's health that I should be made aware of, Doctor?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, Spock, but I've been up to my ears in paperwork lately," Bones snapped. "My friend isn't allowed to visit me unless I'm off duty?"

"Of course not, Doctor," Spock smoothly replied. "However, your irritation at my well-founded inquiry to the Captain's health is both unwelcome and illogical."

"I can't leave you two alone for five minutes," Jim huffed with a laugh, his head just barely inside the door. "Aren't you all supposed to be heading to the transporter room?"

The two of them nodded stiffly and Jim shook his head, wiggling his way between them so they could walk together. He pulled out his communicator. "Lt. Alden," he greeted, "any response yet from Epsilon Tauri?"

"Nothing so far," came his tinny reply. "We got a burst of static about ten minutes ago, but since then everything's been quiet."

"Any sign of the Klingons, Lieutenant?" he asked then, voice light, but when he turned to look at Bones, his expression held none of the levity his tone suggested.

"We're all clear, sir," Alden said immediately. "Mr. Scott is on standby."

"Alright," Kirk confirmed. "Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Lt. Uhura, and a small team of security personnel will be beaming down with me shortly; we'll keep you posted. Kirk out."

"Aye, sir," Alden replied as Jim snapped the communicator shut.

***

The trip to the transporter room was short but silent, Jim fighting the urge to sigh at every turn. Those two were going to be the death of him, he knew it. Two red-shirted security officers, as well as Uhura, met them in the transporter room and Jim gave them all a brief nod, his stomach already churning. Bones was overreacting, he told himself fiercely. Nothing was going to go wrong.

Jim stepped onto the transporter pad, Spock and Bones flanking either side, the security personnel and Uhura in back. He flashed the tech manning the station his most charming grin, then called out, "Energise," and waited for the familiar tingle of dematerialization to slip down his spine.

When the dim, flickering lights of the outpost slid into view, Jim let out a shuddering sigh of relief. He took a step forward, and then another, hand hovering over the phaser at his side. "Phasers set to stun," he reminded them quietly. "We don't want to accidentally kill one of our own."

A voice called out from the dark, "Hello?" and Jim jumped, a twinge lighting up his belly.

Jim frowned and grit his teeth momentarily. He very determinedly resisted the urge to set his hand against his abdomen. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS _Enterprise_. Identify yourself."

A middle-aged, balding man stepped out, wiping at a pair of glasses with his shirtsleeve. "Sorry," he said with a slightly embarrassed grin; Jim made a small motion with his hand and his officers holstered their weapons. "We had a snowstorm hit us a few nights ago; the power's been out ever since. We've got a few generator's rigged up, but we had to keep our labs fully functional - which, unfortunately means our communications are out. We tried jimmy-rigging a little something when our sensors saw you pulling into orbit, but you didn't get it, huh?"

"Unfortunately not," Jim answered with a little smile of his own. "Since we're here, is there any type of assistance we can offer you-?" His knees buckled abruptly, a sharp pain shooting through his stomach.

"Captain?" Spock said immediately, pushing through the officers to get to Jim, communicator in hand.

Jim hit the floor on his side, curling into a ball and gasping at the sudden onslaught of agony tearing through his insides. Bones dropped to his knees beside him, the tricorder out and ready. "Bo-" Jim gagged on the word and tried again, " _Bones_."

Uhura slammed down to the floor on Jim's other side, the rough surface shredding the skin of her knees and shins. "Kirk," she said urgently, one hand on his face. "Kirk. _Jim_."

"Goddamn it, you idiot," Bones hissed, pulling a progesterone-supplement out of his bag and stabbing the hypo into Jim's neck. "Goddamn it, god _damn_ it, Jim." Uhura's gaze locked on the reading's of McCoy's tricorder and she inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on Jim's jaw.

"This is Commander Spock," the Vulcan said tightly into his communicator. "The Captain has become ill - request emergency beam up-"

"Belay that order!" McCoy barked furiously. He pulled out his own communicator and shouted into it, "I need a shuttlecraft here to pick the Captain up in five minutes, Scotty, or _so help me_ I'm replacing every hypo on that ship with hypodermic needles!"

There was a brief pause, and then Scotty said, "Doctor, we just picked up a Klingon cruiser on the sensors. I can beam the Captain up, surely, but-"

"Shields up," Jim rasped, his eyes screwed shut, "no shuttlecrafts."

"Do not, I repeat, _do not_ beam the Captain up!" McCoy bellowed; he threw his communicator to the side and jabbed a finger at the helpless-looking scientist. "You! Tell me your goddamn medical facilities are in working order."

"Captain-" Spock materialized by Jim's side, his hand reaching out to the Human.

" _Don't touch me_!" Jim near-shrieked; Spock flinched back violently, both hands immediately retreating behind his back.

"Everybody, _back off_ ," McCoy snapped; he turned to Uhura. "Help me get him up. And you!" he hissed at the scientist again. "Where is your damn infirmary? Tell me you've at least got a stretcher."

"T-this way," he stuttered, pointing behind him and twirling swiftly around, running out the door. "I'll get it!"

"Jim, I need you to calm down," Bones murmured, voice suddenly gentle as he cupped a hand to the other man's face. "Calm _down_ , it can-"

"I know," Jim interjected, fingers digging hard into McCoy's sleeve. "Bones, I can't - I can't feel-" Jim gasped again, a broken sound, and Uhura bit down on her cheek until she tasted blood.

"Up, up, Jim," McCoy said soothingly. "I can't give you any painkillers," he continued, shouldering most of the weight as he and Uhura lifted Jim onto the stretcher. 

"I know, I know," Jim whispered miserably; pain stabbed through his stomach again and he whimpered. "Please don't say I told you so."

"I won't, Jim," Bones replied as he practically wheeled Jim out at a sprint, Uhura, the scientist, and the security officers following swiftly behind.

In the dark, Spock stood still as a statue, desperate to hide his trembling hands from sight.

***

"I'm gonna puke," is the first thing Jim said when he woke; a bucket materialized under his chin and Jim heaved, trembling fingers clinging to the sides. "How's the-" Jim choked and more vomit came up. "How's the...?"

"The baby's fine, Jim," Bones whispered, pressing a cooling cloth to the back of Jim's neck. "It's fine; you're fine."

Jim took in a deep, shuddering breath and let his head collapse against the pillow. "Are we back on the _Enterprise_?" he murmured softly; his eyes fluttered shut, aching despite the dim lights. "What happened?"

"We're still at the outpost," Bones explained, bringing a new cloth to wipe at Jim's mouth. "The ship's fine, but they don't want to risk sending a shuttlecraft out until they know it's safe again." McCoy sighed. "Sometimes when the uterus expands, it causes contraction-type pains - travelling via transporter probably exacerbated it. I did an ultrasound, scanned for the heartbeat, checked for bleeding. You're fine, everything's fine."

Jim let out a weak laugh, one hand gingerly moving to cup his stomach. "Yeah, I feel you," he murmured. "Gave us quite the scare." Then he winced and his hand slid to his chest. "Fuck. You were right about my boobs. Is the cat out of the bag, or...?"

"Kidney stone," Bones supplied, his voice still low and soothing.

"I'm falling apart," Jim moaned with another giggle, squeezing his brows together tightly. "Shit. I told Spock-"

"Shh," Bones hushed. "Don't scare me like that again, Jim."

"If I could promise that, I would," Jim mumbled, drifting off to sleep again.

***

The quiet lights of sickbay greeted Jim when his eyes opened next. M'Benga was there, a hypo filled with fluids in his hand.

"I had to barr Leonard from sickbay," M'Benga said softly; the sting of the hypo in his neck was practically nonexistent. "He'd been up nearly forty hours."

Jim winced, staring down at his hands. He licked his lips and coughed to clear his throat. "How's everyone else? The people at the outpost?"

"Commander Spock is currently on the planet's surface, assisting with general maintenance repairs until more substantial supplies can be delivered. Lt. Uhura returned to the ship in the shuttlecraft with Leonard, Smith, and Shores, and has been coordinating with the _Nagato_. She asked to be called when you woke. Are you up for visitors?" M'Benga asked.

Jim nodded and swallowed down the guilt rising up in his throat. "Yeah," he rasped. "I'll see Uhura."

"Kidney stones, my ass," Uhura declared as soon as she got there. Jim blinked owlishly up at her. "Don't play dumb, Kirk. Progesterone and hCG? Not conducive to kidney stones. If I didn't know any better..." The heat bled out of her tone then, but her eyes were still sharp. "Do I know any better?" 

Jim was silent for a few minutes, jaw clenched as he stared at the wall. Then Uhura whispered, "It's Spock's, isn't it?"

His laugh was only slightly hysterical. "I'd ask how you figured that out, but I'm not sure I want to know," Jim admitted, hands settling comfortably over his stomach. The responding warmth made him close his eyes and sigh.

Uhura smiled. "It's not that hard to connect the dots. Though I didn't know that you, um, had the ability to..." Uhura wiggled her fingers at Jim's stomach.

"Alien flowers," Jim quipped. "'Gotta love 'em."

"Why haven't you told Spock, then?" she asked gently. "I'm assuming he doesn't know, judging by what went down earlier."

The guilt all came flooding back at once; Jim ground the heels of his palms in his eyes. "You didn't see him after we-" _were drugged/fucked/made love_ ; Jim shuddered at the words. "-afterwards," he finished lamely. "He was so ashamed to have slept with me. God. So afraid that he was losing all his Vulcan principles. How could I ask him to drop everything in his life for this? I didn't want to ruin our friendship." _Anymore than it already was, at least._ To his utter horror, Jim felt his throat began to constrict, hot, fat tears welling up behind his eyes. "Fuck. _Fuck_. I'm sorry - hormones," he hissed, voice hitching. 

"It's alright. It's been a long day," Uhura whispered; she laid a hand on Jim's arm and he could feel the calm permeating through the cloud of tears in his eyes. "Spock never does anything he doesn't want to do," she continued softly.

"Bullshit," Jim replied with a humorless smile, sniffling. Then his face crumpled again. "I told him not to touch me. Fuck."

"Spock will understand," Uhura told him. "I know Spock, and so do you: you're his best friend, Kirk, loathe as the Vulcan in him is to admit it."

"I'm a terrible friend," Jim said, still fighting back tears. "I fucked him-"

"I think we both know who did the fucking," Uhura cut in with a knowing eyebrow quirk.

Jim sputtered and tried not to cry and laugh at the same time. "I take it back: you're the terrible friend," he affirmed, falling back against the pillow again. "What am I going to do?"

"You'll figure it out," Uhura said knowingly.

"What, no words of wisdom?" Jim cracked, only slightly hopeful.

"We both know whatever advice I give you, you're just going to ignore and do what you want anyway," Uhura teased, bending over the biobed to press a light kiss to his forehead. Jim noticed the freshly healed skin on her legs and bit back another wave of emotion. "Sleep well, Kirk," Uhura whispered.

"Goodnight, Uhura," Jim replied.

***

M'Benga let Jim out of sickbay the next morning and, when he'd inquired as to McCoy's whereabouts, merely said, "He's in a conference," and left it at that. With firm instructions to 'take it easy for the next few days', Jim reluctantly walked back to his quarters, stopping every so often to assure various worried crewmembers that he was _fine_ , honestly, no need to worry, carry on.

He caught Spock just as he was getting off the turbolift and the Vulcan froze, his shoulders straightening, spine stiffening. "Captain," he said.

A wave of nausea welled up in Jim. "Spock," he managed somewhat steadily. "Have you been working this whole time?"

Spock inclined his head ever-so-slightly. "Vulcans require much less sleep than Humans. As the captain was incapacitated, it was my duty as First Officer to continue the mission to the best of my abilities."

Jim flinched, bile rising in his throat. "Right," he said softly. "Can we talk about that?"

"I have experiments in the lab to attend to at present," Spock told him, but the excuse sounded weak even to Jim's ears.

"Please," Jim asked him, voice just shy of a whisper. "It won't take long."

A second's contemplation, and then: "Very well. Shall we go to your quarters?"

"Yours would be better," Jim told him. The more in his comfort zone Spock was, the easier this would be.

Spock nodded again, turning on his heel and stalking down the hall, the epitome of Vulcan impassivity. When they reached Spock's cabin, Jim took his customary seat, but Spock remained standing a careful distance away, hands behind his back in parade rest.

"I shouldn't have said that to you," Jim opened with, forcing his eyes to meet Spock's, to open his mouth to speak. "That was... horrible of me to do." _Unforgivable_ , his traitorous mind hissed at him. Jim told it to shut the fuck up and pay attention to Spock.

"On the contrary," Spock countered, "it was I who should not have attempted the act. It was very... Human of me," he admitted, as if the words tasted sour on his tongue. 

"That's not a bad thing," Jim insisted quietly; he stood and tried to close the distance between him and Spock, hand reaching out to breach the emotional walls that separated them. "You're half-Human, too. Spock-" he continued. _Please understand_ , Jim willed him to know. _If you would just touch me and_ see-

Spock stepped back. "If there is nothing else, Captain," he said smoothly, "I must attend to the labs now."

Jim stood alone in Spock's quarters so long his knees nearly gave out.


	6. Chapter 6

"Don't wear that shirt," Uhura told him, scrolling through a PADD. "I can totally tell you're growing breasts."

Jim scowled. "All of my shirts are exactly the same," he said. "What am I supposed to do, wear a sweatshirt on the bridge?"

"You probably should," she suggested. "Judging by the temperature you tend to keep your quarters lately, it can't be very comfortable for you." Uhura's nose suddenly wrinkled and she let out a laugh. "God, do you remember those awful turtlenecks we almost had to wear?"

"Not one of Starfleet's finer moments," Jim admitted as he looked in the mirror; he sighed and relented, digging a sweater out of the back of his closet. "What the hell am I gonna do when I start getting fat?" he groaned.

"We've already passed that stage, Kirk," she said, laughing when he threw the sweater at her head. "Touchy, touchy, pregnant man. Here, I looked up some stuff for you." Uhura flipped the PADD around and handed it to Jim. "It's the more cultural aspects of Vulcan reproduction."

"Cultural?" Jim echoed, eyes scanning the text.

"Yeah, like the benefits and disadvantages of vegetarianism during pregnancy." Uhura's eyes lit up as she switched into lecture-mode. "The article's fairly recent - you see, on Vulcan, there were a variety of plants that provided more than enough of the nutrients necessary for, just an example, fetal brain development; but the same can't be said for the new colony. There are supplements you can take, of course, but the paper just goes on to discuss the pros and cons of both sides. And this one," Uhura flicked a new window up, "talks about the physical and emotional benefits of meditating while the fetus is developing."

"You're worse than M'Benga," Jim complained, staring down at the PADD. His eyes unfocused for a minute and Jim sighed heavily as he stared at the door to his and Spock's conjoined bathroom.

"Oh no, come on." Uhura patted Jim on the shoulder. "You're not spending another night in here whining about your sad, miserable life. Let's go to the rec room - I'm supposed to be meeting Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov in about thirty minutes anyway." She raised her eyebrow sharply, but her voice was teasing when she said, "Besides, you could use the exercise."

"Yoga isn't exercise," Jim bitched, "and neither is walking. Those are the worst examples of 'fitness' I've ever heard of in my life."

"Right, okay Mr. Macho, you either come with me or I'm siccing McCoy on you." Uhura stood and straightened out her ponytail. As Jim was pulling the sweater over his head, Uhura summoned her courage and gently asked, "Kirk, maybe you should try talking to Spock."

Jim flinched and he ground his teeth together. "I already tried talking to Spock," he said lowly, avoiding eye contact.

"Try again," Uhura snapped. She reined her anger in and tried again. "I know you miss him." Jim's lips thinned and his nostrils flared. "He'll understand, Kirk," Uhura whispered.

"That's what I'm worried about!" Jim hissed, pacing back and forth. "I don't want him here out of some sort of _obligation_. What kind of a shit friend would that make me? 'Hey, when you were drugged up on a freaky alien flower and had sex with me - the _shame_ of your life, apparently - I got knocked up. Congratulations, you're a father!'" Jim buried his face in his hands, falling back into his chair. "At least right now, there's no evidence to speak of. How's he going to react to it staring him in the face every day for the next seven and a half months? And what if I keep it? Is he going to throw away his chance at a normal relationship or career for us?"

"Okay, okay, hard truths first," Uhura cut in; she grabbed her chair again and yanked it over so that they were sitting face to face. "You're not giving Spock enough credit. Assuming he'd only be your friend just because you _happen_ to be carrying his child? You are overreacting, Kirk. Farm animal fetishist that you may be, it's a far cry to assume having sex with you would be the 'shame of Spock's life'. Spock and I dated for nearly eighteen months," she continued, her voice a tad less sharp, "and yes, sex is private for Vulcans, but it isn't exactly logical to worry over circumstances that are out of your control. You were drugged, too, Kirk," Uhura finished softly.

"Yeah, well I can safely say I'm the only one who still gets off thinking about it," Jim muttered, cheeks burning.

Uhura's lips twitched. "Kirk, I dated Spock for _eighteen months_ ," she repeated. "I know what those fingers can do."

" _Uhura_!" Jim clapped his hands over his face again. "Jesus Christ, you act like I'm in love with the guy."

"I never said anything about love," Uhura said sweetly with a quirk of her brow. Jim made a pitiful noise in the back of his throat and she rolled her eyes, reaching forward to envelop him in a tight hug.

There was a pause, and then: "Kirk, I swear to god if you just _farted_ on me-"

"Blame it on the baby," Jim blurted, wriggling out of her arms and off the chair before she could beat him with it.

***

"Captain!" Scotty boomed when he and Uhura stepped into the rec room. "I dinna know you were comin'! Sit down, have a drink."

"No thanks," Jim said with a laugh, settling into an armchair beside Sulu and Chekov. Uhura took a seat beside Scotty on the couch. "If I send any more 'I wrote these when I was drunk' reports back to Starfleet, Pike is going to have my head."

"That's if Mr. Spock doesn't kill you first," Scotty returned; he grinned and raised his glass in a toast. "I'll just have to drink enough fer ya, then."

"Please see that you do, Mr. Scott." Jim laughed again and burrowed into his sweater. "So what's everyone been up to, lately?" he asked, insides warming.

"Hikaru is in the middle of trying to cross-breed the plants from Selif IV," Chekov piped up. "It's wery exciting."

Sulu shot Chekov an incredulous stare. "It's not _that_ exciting. It's more tedious than anything," he told Jim, taking a sip of something bright and fizzy, "and _Pavel_ just published another one of his research papers, so."

"The one about warp transporting mechanics, right?" Jim asked. "Congratulations, Chekov." Chekov stuttered and blushed and was saved any further embarrassment by Chapel's subsequent arrival; she squeezed onto the couch next to Uhura, biting into a candy bar almost immediately. "Nurse Chapel!" Jim grinned. "You haven't seen Bones around, have you? I feel like I haven't seen him in a week."

Christine shook her head apologetically and wiped a bit of chocolate from the corner of her lips. "He's in another meeting; sorry, Captain," she said when her mouth was candy-free. "He did tell me to remind you about your physical tomorrow, though."

"Of course he did," Jim grumbled; an ensign passed by with a cup filled with something pink and Jim's eyes lit up.

Uhura noticed the ensign, as well, and beamed. "Melanie!" she called, waving her over.

"Uhura, no," Sulu moaned. "Too much estrogen."

"What was that, Sulu?" Uhura said dangerously, grinding the heel of her boot into Sulu's shin. "Scoot over," she sang sweetly, "and let Melanie sit beside you."

"Sure thing," Sulu choked out, shifting over. The brunette grinned at him, all teeth, and swallowed another mouthful of her drink.

"Oh, Mr. Spock is here, too," Christine noted. She raised her hand and raised her voice a hair. "Mr. Spock! Would you like to join us?"

The Vulcan inclined his head briefly. "Thank you, but I must decline. I only came to inform Lieutenant Uhura that I will be unable to honor our previously scheduled engagement at nineteen hundred hours."

Uhura's eyes narrowed. "Why?" Then she shook her head. "All the more reason for you to hang out with us now," she continued, wiggling out from between Scotty and Chapel. "Stay here," Uhura ordered.

"Traitor," Jim hissed as she passed by. Uhura turned back to wink at him.

Nyota returned with an extra chair and Spock reluctantly sat, shoulders back, spine straight.

Melanie took a long slurp from her drink to break the silence. Jim choked back a laugh and whispered, "Is that a strawberry milkshake?"

She smiled and tilted the cup towards him. "It is! Would you like me to go get you one, Captain?"

Christine and Uhura shot Jim twin stares of disbelief; Spock even turned his head to regard them carefully. Then Spock slowly said, "Ensign, the Captain is allergic to strawberries."

"Oh," she squeaked, jerking the cup away immediately. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"Hey, no worries," Jim said with a grin. "They're really delicious before they make my throat close up." Jim stood, swaying on his feet unsteadily for a moment before regaining his equilibrium. "I'm gonna go get some non-lethal fruit. Does anybody want anything else from the replicator?" He hesitated, then asked, "Spock? Do you want some tea?"

"That would be acceptable, Captain," Jim replied with another nod.

"I'll take a strawberry bagel," Uhura told him, her grin slow and pleased.

"You would," Jim shot back, still smirking when he turned and shuffled his way to the other side of the room.

Melanie finished her drink and set it down on the table; she stared at Jim's retreating back for a second, frowning minutely, then cautiously said, "Has the Captain put on some weight recently?"

Uhura choked on her beer.

"The Keptin has not been to the gym in a couple of months," Chekov allowed. "Sometimes it kennot be helped."

"No, I mean," she waved her hands in front of her, "it's not a _bad_ thing. Personally, I think the Captain's always been a bit on the skinny side-"

"Need I remind you, Ensign," Spock interjected darkly, "of the ramifications of gossiping about a superior officer, especially in the presence of another superior officer?"

"I-"

"Woah, now, don't everybody sound so excited to have me back," Jim joked, raising an eyebrow at the serious faces all around. Uhura stood, first taking her bagel, then the teacup to hand to Spock. Jim flashed her a grateful grin then turned to Melanie. "Are you alright, Ensign?" he asked her, taking in her wet, wide-eyed stare.

"I'm fine," she promised, flailing a hand.

"Alright..." Jim said slowly. He curled back into his chair, bowl of fruit in hand, and immediately shoved half a pear in his mouth. He hummed slightly as he chewed, but faltered when he caught himself on the receiving end of one of Spock's intense, contemplative stares.

Jim swallowed a wave of emotion and told his hormones to shut the hell up.

***

"I thought you said you were busy," Nyota noted when Spock moved to follow her from the rec room. She caught sight of Jim slowly standing, one hand pressed to his temple. "You alright, Kirk?" she called.

"'M fine," Jim said with a wave of his free hand. "It's just a headache. 'Night everyone."

Spock watched Jim go with another unreadable stare. "I confess I had an ulterior motive to seek you out tonight," Spock said then, quickening his pace to bring them further out of earshot of the rec center. When they reached her quarters, he hesitated for a moment. "Nyota..."

"What is it, Spock?" she asked, pressing a light touch to his shoulder.

Spock's gaze flickered to her hand and then said, "Over the past two weeks, I have noticed... a certain number of Vulcan texts to be recently accessed." 

Uhura froze and felt all the blood rush from her cheeks.

"Nyota," Spock continued, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "it was my belief that we ended our romantic relationship on amicable terms. Was this not the case?"

A high-pitched, painful-sounding whine wrenched its way out of Nyota's throat.

***

"I took one for the team last night," Uhura hissed viciously, jabbing an accusing finger at Jim when he arrived in the mess.

Jim blinked. "Wait, what?"

" _Spock thinks I'm still in love with him_ ," Uhura told him; her fingertips dug into the table. "All because of those stupid articles I looked up for you."

"I didn't say you had to!" Jim insisted quietly, lips pressing together tightly, his brows knitting together almost painfully. "I didn't even _ask_ you to."

"I know," Uhura moaned. She let her head fall to the table with a miserable _thunk_. "Ow. I _know_." She sighed into the table. "Fuck."

"Nope," Jim suddenly announced, pushing away his plate. "Nope. Gonna puke; be right back."

Jim arrived on the bridge with just under a minute to spare, the mission stats already beeping at his captain's chair. Exploration of a newly discovered planet they were currently en route to, with two discrete notations at the bottom (one from Pike and the other McCoy) all but ordering Jim to sit his ass on the ship and keep it there. Jim frowned and a tingle of frustration lit up his belly.

"Mr. Spock," Jim said stiffly as he turned to regard his Vulcan First. "You may select two science and two security personnel to take down to the planet's surface with you."

"Sir?" Spock asked, raising one eyebrow.

Jim regarded his tightly clasped hands for a moment. "I... have some matters to attend to on the ship," he eventually announced. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Uhura flash him a sympathetic look. "Please select your away team by oh-nine-hundred."

"Yes sir," Spock replied. "I will submit my team list shortly."

Jim sighed and swallowed back the wave of disappointment burning inside him.

***

"McCoy to bridge."

Jim's lids fluttered as he fought to keep them open. Jamming his thumb onto a button of his chair, he grumbled, "Kirk here," and bit back a yawn.

"Did you already forget about your physical?" Bones snapped back. "Get your ass down to sickbay."

Jim made a face. "Yes _sir_ ," he snorted. He slipped out of his chair, circling around the long way so he could pass by the science station. "Mr. Spock..." Jim started, hesitant.

"Yes, Captain?" Spock actually lifted his face from his console and something in Jim's abdomen warmed.

He squashed it firmly down. "If I'm not back before you guys head down-" Jim smiled, "-have a great mission."

"Thank you, Captain," Spock replied. Then: "Perhaps, if you are free tonight, you would be willing to a game of chess at nineteen-thirty?"

It was an olive branch if Kirk ever saw one. "Of course, Mr. Spock," he confirmed. "Nineteen-thirty it is."

McCoy was scowling at his computer when Jim arrived. He flipped off the monitor and jerked his head to the room next door. "Go take a nap first, Jim: you look like hell."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Bones," Jim quipped with a raise of his brow. "You okay?"

Bones waved a hand. "Fine, fine, just sick of bein' stuck in all these damn meetin's. I was being serious about the nap, by the way." McCoy rolled his neck, vertebrae popping. "Fatigue's one of those pregnancy things and those twelve hour workdays ain't doing you any favors."

"I get off a five and you know it," Jim bitched, nevertheless making his way to the door.

"Yeah, and then you sit around for three hours doing paperwork," McCoy muttered. "Just go take a nap, you idiot, and I'll take a look at the baby when you wake up."

Jim faltered. "Bones..." he started, unsure of how to continue; McCoy looked up then, and Jim could see the bags under his eyes, the harsh lines of exhaustion marking his face. "Wanna hang out after shift tomorrow?" Jim asked, lips stretching in a wide grin he didn't particularly feel.

Bones smiled, a tired thing. "We'll see, Jim. Now get, mama."

"Stop calling me 'mama'," Jim said fondly, slipping out and passing out before his head hit the pillow.

***

Sickbay was a bustling commotion when Jim's eyes snapped open, instantly on alert. He threw the blanket off that _definitely_ hadn't been on him when he'd gone to sleep and skidded out of Bones' office like his ass was on fire. Jim pulled aside the first nurse he could get his hands on. "What happened?" he demanded.

She gently extracted her arm from his hand and Jim was immediately horrified to discover he'd gripped her nearly hard enough to bruise. "Commander Spock and Ensigns Chen and Richards are being prepped for surgery," she explained.

"That doesn't tell me what happened!" he hissed.

Bones appeared amidst the chaos and shouted, "M'Benga, get your ass over here!"

Jim made a beeline for him. "What happened, Bones?" he asked, fear choking at his throat.

"Not now, Jim," McCoy told him. "M' _Benga_!"

M'Benga appeared, chest heaving. "Sorry, I'm here, let's do this." An anti-grav lift slid by carrying Spock; there was a distressing amount of green coating his chest, dripping on the floor. "Somebody get me all the T-negative we have in the banks," he snapped at a nurse, uncharacteristically. "We're gonna need it."

On the lift, Spock's face twitched minutely before he and M'Benga disappeared into the operating room.

"Spock," Jim croaked; the room began to spin. He moved to follow after M'Benga, but a hand on his chest stopped him.

"Go back to the bridge, Jim," McCoy pleaded softly. "I'll call you when I have more information."

Jim pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No, Bones, I can't just _leave_ \- oh god, I have to _tell him_ -"

"Nurse, get him out of my sickbay!" McCoy snapped.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Christine told him, her expression so very heartbreakingly honest, "but you have to _go_." Uhura came around the corner at a near sprint, her eyes wide, and Chapel said, "Nyota, please, you can't be here either."

"Uhura," Jim whispered and she grabbed him, immediately steering him the opposite way. "Uhura, I have to tell him - what if he-"

"Pull yourself together, Kirk," she ordered. She practically manhandled him into the turbolift. "Deck Five."

Jim's shoulders began to shake. "The baby's scared," he whispered.

"That's because you're scared, Kirk." Uhura shoved him out of the lift and began to lead him to his quarters.

Jim barely made it to his bed. "This is what I get for not going on away missions. This is what I get for thinking I could handle having a kid-"

"Kirk, are you having a panic attack?" Uhura strode forward and cupped her hands around Jim's face. "Breathe. _Breathe_. You're going to hurt the baby. Spock is going to be fine. Breathe." Jim inhaled deeply, slowly. "We need our captain on the bridge. Can you do that?" she asked him gently.

Jim looked up at Uhura, all outward signs of distress slowly bleeding from his face. His spine straightened, his shoulders pulled back, and when he stood, Uhura saw every in him every bit the strong, dependable captain he'd become over the last three years.

"Let's go, Lieutenant," Kirk ordered, marching towards the door.

***

The rest of Jim's shift passed in a blur of skittering yeoman's, worried faces from the bridge crew, and walking a very fine line between carefully-controlled apathy and barely-restrained fury. Even Uhura knew better than to try and talk to him and, by the time seventeen hundred hours rolled around, Jim was all but ready to dash his way down to sickbay.

McCoy was waiting for Jim when he got there. "He's in recovery. It was touch and go for a while there, but they're all fine - Spock really got the worst of it."

Jim felt a mild burst of guilt that he'd barely spared a thought for Chen and Richards. "Am I going to get a report now, Doctor?" he asked, voice chilly.

"The natives weren't too friendly," Bones replied, ignoring Jim's tone. "Thank God Spock's freaky Vulcan ribcage is longer than a human's: the spear busted three ribs and missed his lungs by half a centimeter."

Jim let out a slow, relieved breath. "And Chen and Richards?" he prompted.

"Chen's nicked his kidney, but we've already regrown all the necessary tissue and filtered out all the crap. Richards just had a bunch of scrapes and a concussion. Now come on, I still gotta give you your physical."

The harsh line of his spine finally softened. "Can I see Spock first?" Jim asked quietly.

Bones nodded. "Yeah, but real quick - M'Benga let him slip into a healing trance."

Jim scrambled into the recovery room and rested trembling hands on the side of the biobed, just a hair's breadth from Spock's resting form. The Vulcan's chest rose and fell steadily, lashes dark against his pale cheeks, face slack with sleep. Then he tightened his jaw and nodded, spinning around to head back to McCoy.

"He can still hear, you know," Bones said lowly. "You could tell him right now."

Jim shook his head. "He doesn't need this shit right now," he said. "This is the worst possible time to tell him."

McCoy nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, Jim. Let's go take a look at your guts, then."

Jim squeezed McCoy's hand tight enough to feel his bones creak and most definitely did _not_ cry when his baby's heartbeat showed up on the ultrasound.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another warning: there's some more graphic imagery in this chapter, and the difficult pregnancy tag comes up again. Other than that, please enjoy!

Jim wasn't able to be there the _second_ Spock woke up, but it was a close thing. He grinned down at his first officer and teased, "I can't let you do anything by yourself, can I?"

Something that could have been a laugh rumbled deep in Spock's chest as he sat up. "Captain," he greeted with a nod of his head. "I regret that we missed our preappointed chess game."

Jim wasn't sure hysterical laughter was an appropriate response. "You'll make it up to me, I'm sure," he replied fondly. "Chen and Richards are alright, too, by the way."

Spock inclined his head briefly again. "I am aware," he said simply. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but decided against it at the last minute. Finally, Spock inquired, "I do not suppose Doctor McCoy would allow me to return to my quarters?"

"Not a chance," Jim told him with a grin. "You'll be lucky if the bastard lets you out sometime in the next century with the scare you gave us all today."

Spock raised one eyebrow elegantly. "Doctor McCoy has informed me time and time again that his parents were married at the time of his birth. Furthermore," he continued, eyes taking on a friendly spark, "it would be illogical to keep me confined to sickbay any longer than a maximum of fourteen hours as I have already healed the majority of the damage done on the planet."

Jim had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. "God, I missed you," he confessed. He hesitated, then reached forward and rested his hand lightly against the back of Spock's wrist.

Spock stared at Jim's hand for a long moment. "Captain..." he started slowly. "Why are you wearing gloves?"

"'S cold in here," Jim said with a shrug; he beamed brightly down at Spock. "Can I get you anything?"

Spock regarded Jim's leather-clad fingers for another beat before informing him, "I do not require anything at present. However, I would not be averse to rescheduling our game to tomorrow evening."

"I'm supposed to meet Bones after shift," Jim apologized. "After? Or maybe something during lunch hour?"

Spock nodded. "Either is agreeable. I suspect I will be here either way."

"You're damn right you will," Jim told him with a grin. "Get some rest, Mr. Spock - that's an order."

Spock remained deep in contemplation long after Jim had left.

***

The box was waiting by his console when Jim woke up the next morning. With a frown, Jim sat down at his desk, peeled back the packaging, and stared down into it with a growing look of horror on his face.

Jim put in the first available transmission to Pike, _damn_ the the time differences.

"What the hell is this?" Jim hissed to Pike's highly amused smirk.

"Oh, you finally got that then," he said congenially, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Do you like it?"

"You sent me a _fat_ shirt!" Jim screeched. He hauled the monstrosity in front of the view screen, eyes burning. "If you think this isn't going to set off every red flag on the _Enterprise_ -"

"You know they're all going to find out eventually, right, Jim?" Pike twisted his lips to hold back a laugh. "I had that custom-made for you - have you even seen what normal maternity shirts look like? We're not exactly drowning in pregnant captains at the moment."

"You sent me a fat shirt," Jim repeated helplessly.

"Oh come _on_ , it's adjustable! What are you going to do when you're too big for your normal command outfit?" Pike's eyes twinkled merrily. "Besides, it brings out your eyes."

"My eyes are _blue_!" Jim snarled, cutting the transmission on Pike mid-laugh.

Jim sighed heavily, laying the tunic flat on his bed. After a minute-long staring contest, Jim relented and shrugged out of his undershirt. The wraparound was deceptively concealing and, despite the slight vee at the neck, _gloriously_ warm. Jim resisted the urge to burrow into it and tried to hold onto his anger at Pike sending him a _fat shirt_.

Bones and Uhura obviously did not share Jim's ire.

"Green's definitely your color, Jim," McCoy told him around his coffee. Uhura hid her own laugh in her cup. "'Hides your breasts pretty well, too."

"You're an ass," Jim declared, swallowing his nausea long enough to force a bowl of oatmeal down his throat.

"I think Pike did a great job," Uhura said once she was sure she wouldn't start giggling. "You look very sharp, Kirk."

"Quit feedin' his ego," McCoy grumbled. "Pretty soon, he won't be able to fit it in the turbolift."

"Are we talking about his head or stomach?" Uhura asked, her smile something dangerous.

"Oh, great, now the fat jokes start," Jim muttered.

"To be honest, I'm really just waiting to see what jokes Sulu comes up with when he finds out," Uhura continued, bumping her shoulder against Jim's.

"I'm throwing you all in the brig," Jim announced to the table, only half-kidding.

***

"Commodore," Jim started tiredly, thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose, "as I said before, we have not yet finished cataloguing the findings from our current mission. And, as I'm sure Admiral Pike already explained to you," he continued as he pinned the man with a suddenly sharp stare, "we're just a little behind schedule, but we should be ready to disembark sometime in the next forty-eight hours."

Commodore Smithers had arrived on the _Enterprise_ at oh-eight-hundred exactly and gotten on Jim's last damn nerve every second since. 

Smithers raised an eyebrow down at Jim, unimpressed. "If you are running so behind schedule," he said slowly, enunciating his words in a way that made Jim's teeth itch, "then why, _Captain_ , are you currently sitting here on the bridge when you could be down on the planet collecting specimens?"

Jim clenched his jaw briefly. "The natives are hostile and injured three of my landing party. My first officer is still in recovery and Lt. Commander Scott is reworking our engines from the last ion storm we had to sail through. I cannot leave the _Enterprise_ unattended. Sir."

The Commodore smiled and clapped a hand to Jim's shoulder; the touch slid black like ink across Jim's skin, even through the tunic. "Luckily for you," he said, "I am perfectly capable of babysitting the ship for you while you're down planetside."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk saw Uhura stiffen.

"Your offer is very generous, sir," Jim replied, "but I would prefer to wait until my chief engineer has finished his maintenance work."

Smithers leaned in close, all faux-friendliness stripped from his face. "Remember that I outrank you, Kirk," he hissed. "I have places to be and I am not waiting another forty-eight hours."

"Captain-" Uhura suddenly said, standing at her station.

"The Commodore is correct, Lieutenant," Jim cut in quickly. "It would be silly not to take him up on such an... advantageous offer. Commodore." He gave Smithers a sharp nod. "You have the conn."

Smithers slid into the captain's chair with ease, all smiles once again. "Glad to hear it, Captain."

"Lieutenant Sulu," Jim called; he hesitated, then: "Lieutenant Uhura."

They spilled into the turbolift together, Uhura turning to Jim before the doors had even closed. "Captain-" she said again.

"I'll meet you both in the transporter room, Lieutenant," Jim told her. "I just need to see Dr. McCoy about one thing."

"Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not the goddamn _Messiah_!" Bones shouted at him when he got to sickbay. "If I have to open you up to-" He cut himself off visibly. "Captain, you are not, under any circumstance, allowed to use the transporter until we get that damn hobgoblin out of you. Do I make myself clear?"

"What am I supposed to do?" Jim hissed back, running shaking hands over his face. "I can't disobey a direct order from a superior officer."

"Get Pike on the damn phone!" Bones insisted. "Hell, I'll go up there my damn self and tell him-"

"Tell him _what_?" Jim asked him tightly.

"Lieutenant Uhura to sickbay."

Their heads both snapped up at the intercom, but Bones got to it first. "McCoy here," he said.

"Is the Captain with you, sir?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," Bones snapped.

"Sir... there seems to be a problem with the transporter," Uhura told them silkily. "Scotty's looking into the problem now, but it won't be in working order any time soon."

"I'll marry that woman," Bones blurted out, shoulders sagging with relief. Beside him, Jim felt his legs go weak and slid into a chair. "Don't stop me, Jim, I'm marrying her."

Uhura's musical laugh lit up the room. "I'm sorry Doctor, I didn't quite catch that," she said.

Sulu's slightly confused voice came on next. "Sir, I don't see any reason why we can't use the ship's sensors to finish compiling our data. It would be a bit incomplete, but considering the circumstances..."

Jim's head fell back in a laugh. "I'll just have to submit a formal apology to Admiral Pike," he relented. "After all, we _do_ still have a conference to transport Commodore Smithers to."

Uhura muttered something uncharitable about said Commodore before signing off the comm.

***

Jim spent his lunch break sleeping in McCoy's office (mainly because he would've passed out in his soup otherwise, but it did have the added benefit of avoiding Commodore Asswipe), burrowed into a little cocoon of warmth under three blankets Bones had snaked from empty biobeds. It was pure bliss, all things considered, and Jim woke actually feeling like he could handle the rest of his shift without bodily injuring someone.

That feeling quickly left, however, after realizing that nothing short of throwing Smithers in the brig would get him off his damn bridge.

He stalked, he stared, he fucking _nitpicked_ how Jim ran his shift and, if the murderous glares of his bridge crew were anything to go by, they were also about one more snide comment from going AWOL and shooting the Commodore out the nearest airlock.

"McCoy to bridge."

"Your doctor calls up here an awful lot," Smithers noted blandly. "The man doesn't have any problems completing his shift without direct supervision from his captain, does he?"

"Of course not," Jim bit out quasi-pleasantly, thumbing the comm open. "Kirk here."

"I got the results for your physical down here, if there's nothing too pressing to attend to," McCoy replied.

Jim didn't believe in god, but he thanked him/her/them/it anyway. He smiled softly. "Of course, Doctor; I'll be right down." Jim switched off the intercom and called, "Mr. Sulu, the conn is yours."

The helmsman hopped up at Jim's voice and Chekov shot Sulu a look of desperate pleading at his departure. _Sorry_ , Jim saw Sulu mouth.

"Do you mind if I tag along, Captain?" Smithers piped up. "I've heard many great things about the... efficiency of your medical faculty."

The hair on the back of Jim's neck prickled, but one look around at the hopeful faces of his crew made him hold his tongue. "Of course, Commodore," he forced out with a grin. "I can't say you'll find anything too exciting down there at the moment, but you are more than welcome to see the sights yourself."

Smithers clapped Jim on the shoulder again as he passed, heading for the turbolift. "If nothing else, I'll give my regards to your resident Vulcan," he said lightly.

Jim grit his teeth and accepted his fate.

***

"Doctor-Patient privilege," Bones said gleefully before the door slid shut on Smithers' disgruntled face.

"Great, now he's _definitely_ not going to leave me alone," Jim grumbled, falling into his normal chair.

McCoy snorted. "Eat somethin', kid," he told him. "You skipped lunch."

Jim rolled his eyes, but complied, digging into the cooler behind McCoy's desk for an apple. "So did you actually call me down here to talk about my physical, or...?"

With a nod, Bones rolled over to the intercom and opened a line to the next office over. "M'Benga wants to take another look at your neural levels," he explained, before barking, "M'Benga!" As he shuffled the chair back to his desk, Bones scooped up his PADD and tapped in a security code. "Personally, I don't think there's much of a problem," he continued, scrolling through the data, "but M'Benga thinks your neural activity should've hit a spike from that little goblin in there."

Jim looked down at his stomach as if he expected it to talk back. "Nothing feels out of the ordinary," he said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, so you're the expert on Vulcan-hybrid pregnancies now, are you?" McCoy snarked; M'Benga strolled in, tricorder already in hand.

"Well I'm the one who's had it sitting in my gut the past two months," Jim snapped back. "I think I would know better than you."

"Boys," M'Benga said warningly, running the tricorder over Jim. "Normally between weeks seven and eight is when the first of the fetus' telepathic nerve cells begin to form. Your neural levels should be a bit higher than this."

"It's three quarters human," Jim bit out; he pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyes shut. "Pretty much all you guys are doing is guesswork - you don't know what is or isn't normal about this except for the fact that it can't be normal because I'm a goddamn medical experiment!"

McCoy curled his hands into fists. "You know what, Jim? You are gettin' on my last damn nerve-"

"I didn't ask for these weekly checkups," Jim hissed, "or you micromanaging my life, because newsflash: I'm a grown man and I'm perfectly capable of reading a few pregnancy books-"

"If it weren't for me, you'd have a dead baby rotting in your guts right now!" McCoy shouted, slamming a PADD down on the desk with a loud _crack_.

Jim stiffened, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water down his back; his abdomen grew cooler for a moment, as well.

"Aaand _there's_ the neural spike," M'Benga announced to the silent room. The door chimed then and the computer announced that Commander Spock was requesting permission to enter.

"Yeah," Bones rasped, turning his attention to the clutter on his desk. "He can come in."

Spock strode in, already dressed in his customary blacks and blues, but faltered when he saw Jim and M'Benga there. "Doctor M'Benga, he greeted cautiously; his eyes slid to Jim. "Captain."

"The Captain was just leaving," McCoy gruffly said. "What can I do for you, Commander?"

Jim pressed his lips together and left McCoy's office, anger and no small amount of guilt burning his belly.

***

"Captain," Spock said later that night, hand hovering above his rook.

"Jim," Jim prompted almost subconsciously, chin propped on his hand, staring at a nondescript spot on the wall.

"Jim," Spock corrected himself. He captured one of Jim's bishops and set it the side, hesitating briefly before inquiring, "Are you alright?"

Jim blinked and straightened. "What?" he asked with a laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine, Spock, why do you ask?"

Spock steepled his fingers in front of his face for a moment. "I... am curious," he admitted. "Why was Doctor M'Benga with you in Doctor McCoy's office this afternoon?"

Jim raised an eyebrow, tucking his hands into the thick sleeves of his sweater. "Hell if I know," he said with a shrug. "He was already with Bones when I got there."

Spock studied him for a moment longer; Jim resisted the urge to squirm. Then he nodded. "Very well," Spock said. "I will have you checkmated in three moves."

Jim's eyes narrowed, his grin taking on a competitive edge. "Oh no you don't," he told him. "You're not getting my queen that easily."

"I believe the Human phrase," Spock started innocently, "is 'bring it'."

***

Jim was going to vomit.

McCoy's face was pinched tight with anxiety. "Jim," he whispered helplessly. "You don't-"

Smithers' voice boomed supernaturally loud in Jim's ears. "Is there a legitimate medical reason your captain cannot perform the duties required of him as asked, Dr. McCoy?" he asked, his tone void of any false camaraderie.

"No, sir," Jim replied immediately; he turned to give Bones a stiff grin. "Doctor, you worry too much," he joked. "I'll be in and out in no time."

"Captain," Nyota croaked.

"Everything is going to be fine, Lt. Uhura," Jim promised her.

"Not after the disciplinary hearing I have scheduled for her," Smithers threatened. "Sabotaging her own ship's transporter? She's quite lucky I don't have her thrown in the brig until we arrive back on Earth."

"Now wait just a damn minute-" McCoy hissed.

"Commodore, this is still my ship," Jim said evenly. "Please remember that you are a guest here on the _Enterprise_."

Smithers' glare could have melted Jim on the spot.

"Energise," Jim called out shakily as he stepped on the transporter pad, fists clenched tight at his sides, palms slick with sweat. A stream of cool energy slid down his back and Jim hoped, wished, _pleaded_ for everything to be alright -

Jim reappeared on the planet's surface and had only take a few steps forward when his knees buckled unexpectedly. He slid a hand to his stomach and whispered, "It's alright, you're fine, you're okay." Jim turned around and froze.

Where were his security officers?

Jim pulled out his communicator, but the sound cut off mid-chirp. Jim coughed. "Kirk to _Enterprise_. Come in _Enterprise_." When he received no answer, Jim cursed and threw it to the side, one hand still braced on his abdomen.

"Captain," Spock said suddenly.

Jim's head whipped around. "Spock," he rasped. "You're not on active duty. What are you doing here?"

"Captain, the ship's been placed on red alert," Spock continued. "You need to beam back up immediately."

"What?" Jim ground out. "Why the hell did they let me beam down then?" He shook his head and bent down to retrieve his communicator. "I can't get ahold of the ship," he continued, frowning down at the hunk of scrap in his hand.

Spock was attempting to hail the ship on his own communicator when Jim's stomach seized, pain stabbing through it like a jagged knife. "Spock," he whimpered, his legs giving out from underneath him again.

The Vulcan was at his side immediately. "Captain," he said, his eyes unnecessarily wide.

"Spock, I-" Jim bit down on his tongue and tasted blood. "I have to tell you s-something," he forced out, his body shaking like a leaf. He grabbed for Spock's hand and squeezed it brutally tight. The pain was so bad, Jim wanted to sob - wanted to _die_.

Spock, meanwhile, stared down at Jim with something akin to horror growing on his face. "Captain, you-" he choked on the words.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Jim whispered hoarsely; the pain in his abdomen flared and he cried out. His insides felt cold and dead. "Oh god, the baby-"

Spock dropped Jim so quickly that Jim had barely registered the movement before the sharp sting of gravel sliced through his cheeks. "How...?" Spock cleared his throat and tried again. "How could you let that-?"

Jim shook his head slowly, trying to brace himself up on one arm. "Spock, this doesn't change anything," he insisted. "You don't have to do anything, this is all on me-"

" _No_."

Jim stared up at Spock, blurry through his tears, and watched as his friend turned around and walked away.

***

Jim almost didn't make it to the bathroom before he heaved up everything in his stomach. He clung to the toilet bowl like it was his only anchor to the living world, shoulders shaking, fingers trembling. Jim let his head fall to the seat and sobbed out, " _Fuck_." He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. "Fuck," he repeated weakly.

Seconds, minutes, hours later (Jim honestly couldn't give a shit), Jim stumbled back into his quarters and slid into bed shivering, pulling the covers tight around him. Jim took in another shuddering breath. He closed his eyes and immediately crimson-tinted images of dead, half-formed fetuses filtered through his mind.

"Computer," he choked out. "Locate Dr. McCoy."

***

Despite the late hour, McCoy was still in his office, and the door slid open barely a second after Jim requested access.

"Get some sleep, Doctor," was all Jim heard before Bones switched the computer off and Jim desperately tried to hold it all together.

"Was that Pike?" he asked softly, still hovering in the doorway.

"Yeah," McCoy said.

"Bones, I-" Jim pressed his lips together and tightened his jaw right below his chin. "Can I see the baby's heartbeat, please?"

McCoy stood immediately, practically loping over to Jim at a jog. "What's the matter?" Bones asked. "Do you feel any sort of pain or respiratory distress?"

"No, I..." Jim swallowed down bile and the sour sting of embarrassment. "I had a nightmare," he finished meekly.

Bones nodded, taking Jim's arm and gently steering him next door so he could sit on the couch. "Let me just go get the equipment," he said soothingly.

In spite of his best efforts, a few rogue tears managed to slip down his cheeks when the fetus' vitals popped up on the screen, strong as ever. "I'm so sorry, Bones," he said in a rush. "That was such a dick move, I know you're only looking out for me-"

Bones set the prenatal scanner down on the floor and slid onto the couch next to Jim, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "It's okay," he whispered, pushing lightly on Jim's head. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Jim replied, burying his face in the crook of McCoy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bones."

"I know, Jim," McCoy murmured, rubbing slow, even circles across Jim's back. "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

Nausea was still a prevalent force the next morning and Jim could barely take two bites before he had to stop, close his eyes, and will the bile down again.

"Is everything alright, Captain?" Smithers asked as he slid into a chair beside Jim; Bones and Uhura both threw the commodore a sour look.

"Just a little stomach bug, sir," Jim insisted with a wave of his hand. He straightened the discomfort from his face and took another bite of his cereal.

Smithers laughed and clapped Jim on the back. "Some people never really get their space legs; 'nothing to be ashamed about," he teased.

Jim's teeth began to itch again. "Of course, sir," he replied smoothly, grabbing his bowl and standing. "I'll see you on the bridge, Lieutenant."

Spock was on the bridge when Jim stepped out of the turbolift. He shot the Vulcan a somewhat puzzled grin. "Mr. Spock," Jim greeted, cocking his head to the side, "Good morning." 

Spock nodded once before turning back to his station. "Good morning, Captain. We are currently en route to Starbase 8 and are scheduled to arrive tomorrow at ship's time twenty-two hundred hours."

Jim let out a little sigh of relief. "It'll have to do," he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, as he circled around to the science station, Jim said, "Thank you, Mr. Spock. We'll just have to make the most out of the Commodore's scintillating company while we can." Sulu didn't quite cover his snicker and, when Jim snuck a peek over at Chekov, the little Russian genius' shoulders were shaking ever so slightly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I take it the Commodore has proved to be the opposite of which you implied?" he asked quietly.

"Got it in one," Jim quipped, bracing one hand on the back of Spock's chair. "Let's just say you should consider yourself very lucky to have missed yesterday's shift."

The eyebrow climbed higher. "Vulcans do not believe in luck, Captain."

Jim laughed, then lowered his voice again. "Spock, you can take another day to finish recuperating, you don't have to come straight back to work."

"Your offer is appreciated, Captain," Spock replied in that same soft tone. "However, Doctor McCoy has cleared me for active duty and I see no reason not to continue my regular duties."

"Now _that's_ what I like to hear from Starfleet's presumed finest," Smithers boomed as he stepped out the lift.

The commodore's tone was eerily reminiscent of Jim's dream from the night before and it set a foul taste at the back of his throat. Nevertheless, Jim straightened with a grin and said, "I really couldn't ask for a finer First, Commodore."

"Yes, yes, indeed," Smithers agreed with a matching smirk, striding over to the science station. He clapped Jim on the shoulder again (thankfully not Spock, at least) and continued with, "If you'll indulge a bit of curiosity, Mr. Spock, what was it about Starfleet that made you decide to stay with us instead of moving to New Vulcan with the rest of your race?"

Uhura, having just settled into her own station, whipped her head around to stare poison-laced daggers into the back of the commodore's skull.

"Commodore," Jim warned softly, "Vulcans are a very private race-"

"I would not say it was Starfleet, precisely, that incited me to accept the position as both First Officer and Head of the Science Department aboard the _Enterprise_ ," Spock allowed, briefly pausing to give Jim a look laden with amusement, "but an officer who showed both exemplary leadership skills and the ability to overcome any and every task thrown at him with ease. That," and oh, Jim could definitely see the laughter in his eyes now, "and an old friend of mine suggested that I forego logic and 'do what feels right'."

Jim's eyes prickled a bit at the mention of the Elder Spock, and a warm feeling slid into his belly and took residence there, swatting away the wear and tear of the previous forty-eight hours.

Smithers' smile widened. "I shall have to meet this officer who managed to convince a Vulcan to stay in the 'Fleet," he said jovially; he gave Jim's shoulder one final pat and took a step back, already making his way in a loop around the bridge.

Spock inclined his head briefly, warm eyes locked on Jim's own. "Perhaps, one day, you shall."

***

Because the Commodore would be departing at such a late hour, Jim elected to end his shift an hour early so he could try to (metaphorically) squeeze in a nap before he had (literally) squeeze into his dress uniform to see the man off. Jim relinquished the conn to Spock, bid goodbye to his crew, and had nearly made it to the turbolift when Smithers called out, "Captain?"

 _So close_. "Yes, Commodore?" Jim asked, turning to face the man. "What can I do for you?"

"I would be delighted," Smithers continued with a wide smile, "if you and your first officer would care to have a drink before I departed tonight? You've all been so hospitable, I confess I'm reluctant to leave."

_Oh, you're leaving if I have to throw you into space myself_ , Jim thought darkly; he flashed Smithers a grin of his own and said aloud, "Thank you sir, but Vulcans don't drink."

"No?" Smithers let out a chuckle. "What a shame. No reason he can't join us, though?"

"I don't drink, either, sir," Jim delicately declined. Scotty, who had been rewiring one of the consoles beside Communications, popped his head up at Jim's voice. Smithers opened his mouth to say something (most likely) uncharitable and Jim added on, "For health reasons."

Smithers raised an eyebrow. "Twenty eight and already having health problems? Not something Starfleet generally looks for to command their starships, Kirk."

"The admirals are aware of my condition, sir," Jim replied soothingly. "Of course, my First Officer and I would be more than happy to join you for any other activity - my comm line is always open, and I'll be in my quarters until nineteen hundred hours. Until tonight, then, Commodore," Jim called just as the lift doors slid shut.

Jim's bed was warm and oh-so-perfect and he slept like a rock until sixteen-thirty when the harsh buzz of his intercom startled him awake.

"Kirk here," he said, smacking his face lightly.

"Kirk," Uhura greeted, a bit breathlessly. "We've... got a bit of a problem."

All traces of fatigue left him as he instantly snapped on alert. "What is it, Lieutenant? Is something wrong with a ship?" And Jim hoped not, but, "A problem with Commodore Smithers?"

" _Well_..."

"What _is_ it, Lieutenant?" Jim snapped, already fumbling out of his sleep shirt and into a more respectable one.

"It would appear," Uhura started slowly, "that Commander Scott heard you say you 'have a condition' on the bridge this afternoon."

Jim could practically hear the frown in her voice. _Shit_. "Shit," Jim swore aloud.

"He gets off shift in half an hour," Uhura continued in that same disapproving tone, "so I would try and intercept him before then before he, say, asks Spock just what kind of 'condition' our captain has."

"Uhura, I love you," Jim blurted, haphazardly trying to smooth his bed head down. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well." She sighed, a pleasant thing. "I may not exactly feel comfortable with all the lying going on, but it's your right to decide whether or not you want to tell him and when."

"I'm giving you a raise," he promised as he buckled himself into his boots.

"I'll remember that come evaluation time!" Uhura said on his way out the door.

Jim found his chief engineer heading in the direction of sickbay. "Scotty!" he called, a little breathless as he caught up to the man. _Damn_ it, he missed going to the gym; yoga with Uhura just was not cutting it. "Scotty, hey, wait up."

"Captain!" Scotty slowed his gait and greeted his captain with a somewhat concerned frown. "What can I do f' ya?"

"Ah, well." Jim let out an uneasy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted to talk to you about what you heard on the bridge today."

The Scotsman gave Jim a sharp look. "Sir, I only talked to Ms. Nyota because I was worried about 'ya - you know I'm not the gossipin' type."

"I didn't say you were, Scotty," Jim said with a shake of his head. He threw an arm around Scotty's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "It's not what you think - really. I'm perfectly fine."

Scotty's brow furrowed. "But Captain, you 'been goin' down to sickbay an awful lot lately..."

"Scotty." Jim grinned, throwing his hands out on either side of him. "Do I look ill?"

"Not exactly, sir," Scotty admitted with a frown, "but you said-"

"I _really_ don't want to have drinks with the Commodore," Jim confessed; he grimaced then, because he _really_ didn't. "I just said that to get him off my back."

If anything, Scotty just looked more alarmed. "Aye, sir, but first your appendix blows and then no' two months later your kidneys are actin' up and-"

"Scotty." Jim smiled fondly, grabbing the man by the shoulders. "If there was anything wrong, you know I'd tell you. We're bros, right?" _Note to self: make sure to tell Scotty about the baby before the rest of the crew._

Scotty let out a soft sigh, finally breaking out into a grin of his own. "Aye, sir. You had me a wee bit worried, there." And then, just barely above a whisper: "The Commodore is a bit 'uva drag to have around, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"Just think: twenty-two hundred hours and he'll be gone," Jim told him. _Five more hours_. "If we're lucky, maybe I can even finagle some shore leave for you guys-"

"Ah, Captain!" Smithers called out; Jim and Scotty winced in tandem. "There you are," he continued, striding over. "Now, I was thinking about what you said earlier - perhaps I'm being insensitive. I did a little digging and Vulcans are partial to herbal teas, correct? Solves both yours and your first officer's problem."

Jim kept his smile firmly pasted on. "Of course, sir. I'll see if Mr. Spock is free and meet you in the rec room on Deck Three?"

"See you then, Kirk," Smithers said as he departed.

Scotty shot Jim a look of pure pity. "Sorry, Captain."

Jim sighed. "Not your fault, Scotty." He hung his head and cursed. " _Damn_ it."

***

Jim hissed out a noise of pure frustration, trying desperately in vain to fasten the top clasp of his dress uniform. "Just - _come on_!" The door buzzed and Jim called, "Yeah, yeah, enter."

Spock strode in, pristine as ever, and graced the Human with a raised brow. "Is something the matter, Captain?"

Jim gestured rudely to his collar. "My damn uniform won't fasten," he grumbled. "Whatever; I'll just send in an order for a larger size."

The eyebrow climbed higher. "If I may, Captain," Spock said hesitantly. Jim blinked and Spock drew closer to quickly slip the hook into its proper place, very careful not to touch skin.

Jim exhaled. "Thanks Spock," he whispered.

"Your glands do not appear to be swollen," Spock said, slightly nonplussed. "However, perhaps in trying to remove the Selifan children's hair from your uniform, the fit was altered in the wash."

"...Yeah," Jim agreed, cracking a grin. "Probably."

Spock nodded and took a step back, already turning on his heel. "We should leave now if we are to make our meeting with the Commodore."

Jim groaned. "Don't remind me, please."

Spock looked at Jim out of the corner of his eye, arching his eyebrow again. "Though I appreciate the effort the Commodore made to respect my culture," he started slowly, "I... understand your hesitation to dine with him this evening."

Try as he might, Jim couldn't keep it in: he threw his head back in a laugh. "Was it that bad after I left?" he teased. "Really?"

"He is... very Human," Spock allowed as they stepped into the turbolift.

"Deck Three," Jim said and then turned back to Spock, bumping his shoulder to the Vulcan's. "Mr. Spock, one day you are going to say that word without it sounding like an insult."

"I assure you, Captain, I have no idea what you mean," Spock replied, striding out of the lift and down the hall.

The rec room was fairly empty; apparently someone had spread the word of Smithers' impending arrival and everyone else had made themselves scarce. There were a few ensigns in the corner, but all the higher ranking officers and those who'd had the... pleasure of the Commodore's presence on the bridge the past two days were absent. 

Jim rubbed his hands together, making his way over to the replicators. "Let's see what we can make these babies do," he announced. "You like the sash-savas stuff, right?"

Spock blinked, then dipped his head in a nod. "Indeed. Might I suggest for you the yon-kur theris? It has a subtle, almost mint-like flavor."

Jim hummed. "That doesn't sound half bad, actually." He punched in those, as well as a few others, and handed the tray off to Spock. "I'm just gonna grab a muffin," Jim continued. "Do you want anything?"

Spock shook his head. "I do not require anything at this time," he replied, setting the tray down just as the Commodore waltzed in; the few remaining ensigns scattered and Spock closed his eyes briefly.

"Twenty-two hundred hours," Jim reminded him. "We can do this."

Spock flicked his eyes to a spot on the wall and back (the Vulcan-equivalent of an exasperated eye roll) and sat at the table to accept their fate.

***

"Pardon," Spock said suddenly, intercepting a cup of tea that Jim had been reaching for. "The Captain is allergic to this particular blend."

Jim's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I am?" Spock shot him a bland look and he held up his hand. "Alright, alright, I am."

Smithers eyed them both with amusement. "Thank god you've got a Vulcan with you, Kirk," he snorted, "or you might've shot your ass off with your own phaser by now."

Jim bristled, but Spock merely said, "The Captain is more than adequately trained in that aspect. This is similar to your Terran green tea."

Smithers took the proffered cup, then a hesitant sip. "Interesting?" he said at last.

Spock nodded. "It is, however, quite a stimulating tea - we generally drink it in the morning or early afternoon."

The commodore choked a bit at that, lips twisting as though he'd tasted a lemon.

"The aftertaste is sometimes considered... distasteful to non-Vulcans," Spock added. "My apologies."

"N- no, it's quite alright," Smithers managed after a minute. He feigned casually glancing at the chronometer. "Is it that late already?"

A slow smile spread across Jim's face. "Of course: you probably want to gather all your things together before we pull into orbit around the starbase. Don't let us keep you Commodore - I need to send a transmission down, myself." Spock raised a questioning eyebrow at Jim. "Shore leave for the crew," he explained. "They haven't seen the light of day in, what? Three months? Four?"

"Captain-" Spock started, a small wrinkle appearing between his brows.

Jim waved a hand. "It's a figure of speech, Mr. Spock." He turned back to Smithers. "We will, of course, meet you in the transporter room at twenty-two hundred to see you off, sir."

Jim had barely stepped out of the rec room before he'd opened up his collar, heaving a sigh of relief. "Jesus, this uniform," he bitched again, stretching the fabric with one finger. "I'm going to burn it," he swore. "I really will."

"That is inadvisable, Captain," Spock told him, "as recycling is a far more efficient - and safer - method of disposal."

"Very literal tonight, aren't you, Mr. Spock?" Jim's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Anyway, I'm just going to head back to my quarters real quick-" He bit back a yawn, "-see what I can do about that shore leave."

"I will accompany you," Spock said. "I have nothing to attend to at present."

"'Sounds good," Kirk agreed with another light shoulder bump. The walk was comfortable and quiet and left a fuzzy feeling low in Jim's belly.

Jim, as he found himself doing more and more lately, blamed it on the hormones.

***

As soon as the Commodore had dematerialized, Jim strode over to the intercom and flipped it to shipwide communication. "This is the Captain speaking," Jim announced. "I apologize for the late hour for those of you trying to get some sleep, but for those interested: we've been granted about eight hours of shore leave on Starbase 8. I know it's a little short notice, but those of you who choose to head down there will be allowed to switch shifts if you're on gamma or come in late if you're alpha shift. I wish I could do more for you all, but let's make the most of it. Kirk out."

Jim stretched his arms above his head and grinned. "Man, I'm beat," he admitted with a grin. "I'm just gonna head up to the bridge and see if I can relieve anyone who wants to head to the 'base."

Spock's lips pursed a fraction at the conflicting statements. "You will not be participating in the allotted shore leave, Captain?" he asked instead.

"Me? Nah." Jim waved a hand. "Someone's gotta stay on the ship, right?"

"I, of course, will remain on the ship," Spock replied.

"It's really fine, Spock. I want as much of the crew to be able to enjoy this as possible." Spock arched one eyebrow and Jim sighed, snapping, "I'm _tired_ , Spock - running around a starbase with a group of drunk and giggling ensigns is not what I really want to be doing right now, okay?"

Spock inclined his head. "Of course, Captain. I shall also head to my respective department and see if anyone wishes to head down to Starbase 8."

Jim resisted the (strong) urge to beat his face against the bulkhead.

***

Jim ended up just making a call to the bridge to see if anyone needed a shift filled before heading down to sickbay to pester McCoy. Unsurprisingly, Bones was still working and gave Jim little more than a grunt of recognition when he got there.

"What are you even working on so late at night, Bones?" Jim quipped, spinning around a chair so he could sit on it backwards. "Come on - go have some shore leave."

McCoy's face softened considerably. "We can get you a shuttlecraft if you want, Jim," he said, switching off the computer. 

" _No_ ," Jim moaned lowly. "I love space, okay? 'Can't get enough of it; I don't want shore leave."

"Cranky mama," Bones admonished with a tired grin. He rubbed the back of his neck as he stood. "Come on - it's about time for me to pack up for the night anyway. When's the last time you ate, Jim?"

"I had a muffin and some tea a couple of hours ago?" Bones shot him a sharp look and Jim confessed, "Alright, alright, so I skipped dinner - sue me."

"Good," McCoy said and twirled Jim around to face the door. "You can come eat something with me."

"Hey," Jim said around a taco-type dish about ten minutes into their meal. Bones looked up from his own sandwich. "Am I really allergic to Vulcan green tea?"

Bones frowned in thought. "Vulcan green tea?" he repeated suspiciously. 

"That's what Spock said it was," Jim continued with a shrug. "He said I couldn't have any because I was allergic."

McCoy's scowl deepened. "Go on," he prompted.

"I don't know, he said it was a morning tea and it had an unpleasant aftertaste?" Jim finished off his taco and licked his fingers. "I mean, I figured he just said it so he'd get to see the man's face when he tasted it, but you never know: maybe I _am_ allergic to it."

Bones hummed softly. "I'll have to look it up. There might be something in it you're allergic to."

"No rush; I don't drink Vulcan tea all that often." Jim eyed one of McCoy's potato wedges and McCoy stabbed a fork warningly in Jim's direction; he sighed, "Fine, you sadist."

Bones rolled his eyes and reluctantly handed him a slice. "Quit your mopin'."

"Mmm, anyone ever tell you you're the best friend anyone could ask for, Bones?" Jim asked dreamily, stuffing the whole thing in his mouth. "Like, I mean _best_ friend."

Bones snorted and scooted the rest of the fries over to Jim's side of the table.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaahahahhahahaha don'thatemeplease

" _I'm so tired_ ," Jim moaned into his pillow. "Go away."

"You irritate me to no end, Kirk," Uhura told him, sharply tugging on one of his blankets. "Get up."

"It's my day off," Jim continued in a whine. "I'm not leaving this bed unless the ship goes to red alert."

"It's Christine Chapel's birthday," she reminded him. "Or is the Captain not going to be present in wishing her a happy birthday?"

"Why am I friends with you?" Jim growled, rolling out of bed and stretching his limbs. "Let me just shower and slip into my _fat-suit_." It was times like this when Jim really wished the doors on the ship were slammable.

"I can't even tell you're pregnant when you wear it," Uhura called as she rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama queen," she muttered then under her breath.

"My Vulcan baby can hear you," Jim shot back before he slipped through the door, "and is _very_ offended!"

"I shudder to think what little terror you'll unleash on the world." Uhura shook her head, albeit fondly. "That kid'll be something special, alright."

The bump wasn't too noticeable when you looked at Jim (the tunic concealed most of it, after all); however, when he stepped out of the bathroom clad only in his pajama pants, Uhura could see a slight distension of his lower abdomen, as well as a roadmap of veins crawling across his stomach and chest.

Jim noticed her stare and grimaced. "Sorry - I look gross, I know," he muttered, padding over to the closet for (Pike had sent a few more Jim's way) a gold tunic.

"You look pregnant," Uhura said firmly.

"Those two words aren't synonymous?" Jim asked, trading his sleep pants for normal ones and tightening the clasp to his shirt. "I can eat first, right?"

"There will be food there," Uhura replied, lifting her eyes to the ceiling again. "Come on."

"Uhura," Jim blurted suddenly, faltering in his step. She paused, as well, looking to Jim with a question in her eyes. "Today's the day that I get to have a first look at the baby," he continued, hand moving unconsciously to his stomach. "If you aren't doing anything after this - ahh." Jim laughed uneasily. "Would you like to see it, too?"

"It took you this long to ask me?" Uhura teased. "I'm honestly offended, Kirk."

Jim sighed in relief. "Okay. Okay, good. Thanks, Uhura."

Uhura held her smile in. "I do what I can," she said breezily. "Now - let's actually go."

The tables in one of the rec rooms had all been moved against the wall, groups of people all milling about in the newly-emptied space - some wishing Christine a happy birthday, others merely enjoying the downtime. Jim headed over to give his regards when he arrived before settling into a relatively quiet corner with a plate of food.

"You're hopeless," Uhura told him as she passed by. Jim merely winked at her before turning back to his sandwich.

Spock appeared about halfway through the party, discreetly slipping into the chair beside Jim. He was silent for a few moments, then said, "I have never quite managed to grasp the concept of celebrating the day of one's birth - at least, not the way that Humans do."

A slow smile spread over Jim's face. "We do like a good party," he agreed, taking a sip of water. "What did your family do for birthdays?"

Spock folded his hands together, pointer fingers pressed to his lips. Quietly, Spock replied, "We did not 'do' anything per se - the day is more for reflection on the deeds of the past year than anything else. However, my mother would often prepare a special meal, and then afterwards gift me a book I did not ask for, but found I enjoyed all the same."

The grin slipped off Jim's face awkwardly. "Oh," he said; Jim cleared his throat at that. "I'm sorry, Spock."

The Vulcan shook his head. "I have... accepted it, on the whole. The," Spock twisted his lips minutely, "emotion is difficult to quantify."

Something unnamed fluttered in Jim's abdomen. "She would be so proud of you," he said with sudden certainty. Jim tightened his grip on his cup. "You have a family with us now - you know that, right?" _Tell him, tell him,_ tell _him_. Spock turned to look at him, very slowly, and Jim took a deep breath, then whispered, "Spock, I-"

"Mr. Spock!" Christine stood before them, teeth worrying at her lower lip. She smiled shyly. "I'm glad you could make it. I - ah - know you're not a fan of chocolate, so I saved you some vanilla." She held out the small, white cupcake to him.

Spock stood, taking the plate from her with a nod. "Thank you, Christine," he told her. "I apologize; I should have given you my regards before conversing with the Captain."

Christine shook her head lightly with a laugh. "No, no, it's alright, I was busy until now, anyways." Her eyes softened then and she said warmly, "Thank you for coming, Spock."

She left shortly thereafter and Spock turned back to Jim, eyes sharp. "Captain?" he prompted. "Did you mean to tell me something before Nurse Chapel's arrival?"

All of Jim's nerve left him in a rush. "Just that birthdays were always really awkward for me," he said, pasting on an unsteady grin. "My mom was usually offworld, so." Jim set his cup on the table and stood. "Well, now that I've killed the mood," he joked, "I'm just gonna head out. Try and enjoy yourself, eh Mr. Spock?"

Spock nodded, his gaze following Jim as he left.

***

McCoy flipped the viewscreen over to face Jim, who sucked in a sharp breath and reached for Uhura's hand immediately. "That's my kid," he told her, soft and slightly awestruck. "Uhura, that's my _kid_."

"Stop wiggling, Jim," Bones said gruffly, though he kept his eyes firmly on the device in his hand. "You're making the picture wobbly." He slid it over Jim's stomach as he tried to get a better view. "There - looks like your little hobgoblin's about as energetic as you are. Two arms, two legs," he murmured, his face softening. One corner of Bones' mouth twitched and he pointed to the slight curve at the tip of a half-formed ear. "And pointed ears," he laughed. "God, you make me miss my kid."

Jim stared at the sepia-toned image in front of him and was suddenly struck with the strongest thought that _damn it_ , he wished Spock were here. The weight of that want was so severe that Jim had to drop his head back and close his eyes for a moment; he took a deep breath in through his nose. "I almost told him today," he murmured, "but I chickened out at the last second."

Above him, Uhura sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. "You'll tell him when you're ready," she said.

Jim nodded and opened his eyes, propping himself back up. "So what's the diagnosis, Doctor?" he asked with a grin.

McCoy's gaze flicked back to the biobed for a second. "Levels are all good, hormones good - still a little too early to tell the sex, but give it a few weeks, and I'll bring you in for another 4D. You wanna holo of this, Jim?"

"Definitely," Jim confirmed immediately, finally releasing Uhura's hand. He interlaced his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, inhaling sharply again. "Definitely," he repeated.

A thought struck him then, that caused a tight ball of emotion to rise in the back of his throat and heat to prickle behind his eyes. Jim let out a tiny laugh, then another, until his shoulders were shaking and his face bright red. His back ached from laughter and he had to gasp to bring any air in his lungs. "Bones-" he choked out amidst his giggles. " _Bones_."

"Uh," Uhura started with a quirk of one brow.

McCoy's face, meanwhile, was screwed up in an expression of utter frustration. "Dammit Jim, what are you-?"

"A pointy-eared bastard," Jim gasped out, pressing palms to his face to wipe at the tears in the corners of his eyes. "My kid is literally a pointy-eared bastard."

Bones snorted, covering up his own laugh with a cough. "Everything I' always dreamed of," he told Jim and stabbed a supplement hypo in his neck.

***

Jim, foolish as he found the gesture, kept the holo stored in a pendant around his neck and found himself messing with the damn thing more often than not, the tip of the necklace just below his shirt collar. It was especially times like this that Jim needed a reminder _not_ to blow up over the fact that he would not be leading any away missions for the next six and some odd months.

"Mr. Spock, Lt. Uhura," he started, fiddling with the cord of his necklace. "Be sure to take an extra science buff down to the ruins with your team - the sooner we finish this up, the sooner we can rendezvous with the _Carolina_."

Spock's eyes flicked to Jim for a beat. "Of course, sir," he smoothly replied. "The Lieutenant and I are quite efficient in this regard; even without another member of the science department, I am certain we will be able to meet our scheduled appointment with those onboard the USS _Carolina_."

Jim shook his head and rolled his eyes skyward, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Spock," he said quietly to himself. Then, louder: "Report to the transporter room in thirty, team. I'll see you all when you get back."

Uhura almost patted Jim on the shoulder when she passed by on her way out, but faltered at the last minute, tucking her hands behind her back. "Captain," she said with a nod.

"Lieutenant," he acknowledged tiredly. "Try not to have too much fun without me."

At his station, Chekov frowned and turned around. "Sir, you-"

"I did not ask for your input, Ensign," Jim snapped. He closed his eyes and hissed out a curse. "Excuse me, I have some matters to attend to. Lt. Sulu, the conn is yours."

Jim ended up crawling around Engineering for three hours for a 'surprise inspection' - which, in all actuality, was just a reason for him to avoid talking to anyone. As long as Jim avoided Scotty, the only Human interaction Jim received down there was a salute and a sharp, " _Sir_."

While it didn't quite take the bitter tang of self-perceived failure out of his mouth, at least Jim's urge to punch the wall had somewhat dissipated by the time he'd made his way back up to the bridge.

Well, at least until he actually _got_ to the bridge.

Jim frowned, eyes locking onto the two figures sitting at their respective stations. "Mr. Spock, Lt. Uhura," he greeted, slowly, _nicely_. "Shouldn't you both be down planetside cataloguing the ruins we picked up on our scanners?"

Spock swivelled around to face Jim, almost lazily, before turning back to his station without a word. Jim's eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline. "Mr. Spock-" he started.

Uhura laughed then, her smile dreamy. "Sir, we finished that _hours_ ago," she replied, her ponytail swinging behind her.

Jim's eyes flicked to his chair. "Then why haven't I received your initial reports yet?" He paused, looking around the bridge. "Where is the rest of my bridge crew?"

Uhura giggled again. "We told them to take the day off."

"You _what_?" Jim squawked at her. "Mr. Spock?" he asked again, shooting the man an expression of sheer incredulity. 

"Nyota is quite correct, Captain," Spock replied, still staring at his monitor, though he had started a sway a bit.

And _ouch_ , but that 'Captain' stung. Jim jammed a thumb to the intercom button on his chair. "Kirk to sickbay. _Bones_ , come in."

McCoy's response was instantaneous, if a little breathless. "What's wrong, Jim?"

"There's something wrong with Spock and Uhura," Jim told him, keeping his eyes locked on them both, "and my entire bridge crew seems to have gone AWOL. I need you up here with a medical scanner, stat."

"I'm on my way," Bones said immediately.

The doctor arrived in record time, swiping the tricorder over Spock first, then Uhura. "Are you kidding me?" he muttered under his breath, staring at the readings.

"What?" Jim asked sharply.

"It says they're drunk," McCoy told him, confusion screwing up his face.

" _What_?" Jim repeated. Uhura fell out of her chair. "Are you kidding me?" he hissed to Bones. "How the hell would Spock even get drunk?"

Bones squinted at them both. "Did you two go through decontamination when you got back on the ship?"

"Of course we did," Spock replied brusquely. "I find that you must even ask incredibly offensive."

"Spock's a little cranky," Uhura sang from her spot on the floor.

"Where is the rest of my bridge crew?" Jim demanded. "Sulu would not leave the bridge unattended." Jim shook his head. "I'm putting the ship on yellow alert."

"I am here," Spock told him firmly.

"I'm gonna need you to come down to sickbay," McCoy said soothingly, moving to help Uhura up. "Spock, you too."

"I am perfectly fine," Spock snapped.

"Commander Spock, you _will_ report to sickbay immediately," Jim ordered with a glare, "or I _will_ write you up for insubordination."

Spock and Jim stared at each other for a long time before the Vulcan finally relented, nodding stiffly and turning on his heel to head to the turbolift.

"Oh hell," McCoy muttered, lifting Uhura's face up to meet his. "Can you make it to sickbay on your own, Lieutenant?"

She smiled sleepily, twisting out of his arms and sauntering after Spock. "Of course, Doctor."

"Why aren't you escorting them to sickbay yourself?" Jim asked when the lift opened back up.

"Gotta make a pitstop first," McCoy said gruffly. "Come on."

Bones' gait was uncharacteristically swift when he stepped out and Jim found himself actually enjoying the exercise, despite the obvious intoxication of the few crewmembers they passed.

After a few hallways, though, Jim paused. "Bones, why are we outside my quarters-?"

"Sorry, Jim," Bones interrupted, shoving him and and overriding the doorlock. "Can't take the chance that this shit's contagious. You just sit tight in here until we figure out what's going on."

"What?" Jim brought his hands up and pounded on the door. "Bones, what the _hell_? I'm the Captain!" he called. "This is my ship!" Anger contorted Jim's face almost painfully and he punched the door a few more times just for good measure. "God _damn_ it," he whispered, letting his forehead thunk heavily against the cool metal.

Jim yanked the pendant out from under his shirt and clasped it so tight his knuckles went white.

***

" _This is Lt. Commander Scott speaking_ ," Scotty's voice boomed over the intercom. " _I need ev'ryone who's come in t'contact with the members of the away party today to report t'Sickbay immediately. Scott out_.

Jim threw his pillow at the wall.

***

About an hour after Scotty's message over the intercom, Jim was just about to get up and hack through the lock himself when Spock apparently beat him to it, stalking through the door and into Jim's quarters, fists clenched tight at his sides.

"You have been keeping something from me," Spock rasped.

"So you're still drunk then?" Jim quipped, slowly standing up and placing a few more feet of distance between them. "I'm assuming Bones didn't let you out of sickbay of his own free will."

"I do not-" Spock turned and began to pace. "Over the past eleven point eight weeks, your behavior has altered significantly. Your diet has changed. You do not visit the gym or converse regularly with your crewmates as you used to. You have not used the transporter or lead an away team since our mission at Starbase 8. You have not-" Spock actually tripped over the words, "-touched me." He looked mildly alarmed at his own admission, hiding his hands behind his back. Spock faced away from Jim and continued, "You have been to sickbay at least once a week and have had two medical emergencies over the past eleven point eight weeks; however, when I looked into your medical records, I could find no evidence of a removed appendix or passed kidney stone."

"Of course you hacked into my medical records," Jim weakly croaked.

"Furthermore-" Spock faltered again. "Furthermore, I have discovered that my mother's medical records have been accessed, and that they have been accessed both by Doctor M'Benga and Doctor McCoy. The- logical assumption would be that the mainosetum flower has irreparably altered your body's chemistry and that you are experiencing long-term side effects of the drug." Spock finally stopped pacing the floor and stared at spot on the wall about six inches to Jim's left. "However I cannot decipher the connection between my mother's medical records and you dying, Jim." His jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. "I never told my mother that I loved her before she died," he admitted quietly.

It was as if someone took hold of Jim's lungs and squeezed all the air out, and at once Jim was by Spock's side. "Spock," he managed. "I'm not dying."

"I can find no other logical explanation," he shakily replied and Jim broke, holding his hand out, palm up, in front of him.

"You want to know," Jim told him in a whisper. "I know this is somewhat of an intimate touch, but-"

Spock's hand reappeared from behind his back and he pressed his palm to Jim's own, their fingers slowly lining up. Spock inhaled sharply and he stared at their connected hands, eyes slowly widening. "Jim-" he whispered.

"I was terrified," Jim blurted, "terrified that it would change everything, that you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore-"

The door hissed open and Spock sprang back, whipping around just in time to see McCoy stab a hypo viciously into his neck. The Vulcan crumpled to the floor in a heap.

"Bones!" Jim exclaimed, jaw dropping. McCoy looked up and Jim could see the mottled purple bruise spreading across his cheekbone. "Oh my god, what happened to your _face_?"

"Apparently, he's not a happy drunk," McCoy gasped out, still panting.

"Did you run all the way here?" Jim asked incredulously. 

Bones nodded, gesturing to the hypo in his hand. "That's the antidote," he explained. "It takes awhile to work through all of that stupid alien pollen shit and half the idiots don't remember anything that happened while they were drunk as a skunk, makin' a mess of my sickbay," Bones continued, finally catching his breath. "Which is a damn shame, because now it won't be nearly as fun to mock them all about this for years to come."

Jim looked down at Spock's unconscious form, one hand sliding around to cover his stomach. "Yeah," he murmured dumbly.

McCoy frowned. "He didn't hurt you, Jim, did he?"

Jim winced and managed to pull a small smile on his face, though it felt more like a grimace. "Nah, he didn't hurt me."

Bones didn't looked convinced. "Well come on down to sickbay anyway so I can check you and the hobgoblin out." Bones hesitated a moment. "Jim, you know I locked you in here for your own good, right?"

In response, Jim shut his eyes and sighed. "I don't want to get into this right now, Bones," he pleaded softly. "Let's just go."

"Okay, Jim," Bones whispered.

***

Spock ended up needing another two hypos before the antidote metabolized in his blood. Jim had, thankfully, not been affected by the brief skin-to-skin contact, but he couldn't help but hover at the Vulcan's bedside, fidgeting.

 _I finally get up the nerve to tell him_ , Jim thought miserably, _and he's drunk. Way to go, Kirk_.

Spock's breathing pattern shifted and Jim straightened, clasping his hands tightly in his lap. "Hey," Jim breathed. "How are you feeling, Mr. Spock?"

Spock frowned, pushing himself upright. "I take it that the Lieutenant and I did not carry out our mission as planned."

Jim's heart sank, but he pulled up a dazzling smile anyway. "I'm starting to wonder if you all can _actually_ do anything without me."

"I assure you, sir, I am perfectly capable performing my duties as First Officer aboard the _Enterprise_ ," Spock replied (and maybe Jim was imagining it, but) testily.

Jim swallowed, grimacing at the amount of saliva in his mouth, then stared down at his hands again. "Do you-" Jim swallowed again, "happen to remember anything that you did while you were under the pollen's effect?"

Spock stared at him for a beat. "I am afraid... I do not, Jim," he replied slowly.

Jim let his breath out in a shaky whoosh. "Okay, alright, hey listen," Jim stood, fingers twitching restlessly, "I gotta head back up to the bridge - we're already late for departure as it is. Take a day off, won't you, Mr. Spock?"

Spock moved to stand as well, but Jim held a hand out. "Take a day off, Mr. Spock," he repeated firmly, and stalked out without looking back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoy your holidays, whatever you may celebrate <3

By the time the _Enterprise_ arrived in the right quadrant to meet the _Carolina_ , McCoy's bruise had faded to little more than a splotch of yellow across his cheek - and Bones was taking every opportunity to rib Spock about the origin of said contusion. Which was just as well, because despite the fact that it had been nearly two weeks since their unfortunate pollen escapade, Jim was no closer to breaching the distance between him and his First than he had been since that day in sickbay. Other than Bones' unofficial trips up to the bridge, shifts were silent more often than not, and Jim found himself snapping at his crew more and more as time went on.

Understandably, tensions were running a little high.

So it was with a grateful sigh that Jim accepted the transmission from Captain Ito of the _USS Carolina_ , pulling on his brightest grin before declaring, "Captain Ito! Always a pleasure. I apologize for our tardiness - there was a bit of a delay in regards to our last mission."

The middle-aged woman smiled broadly. "No need to apologize, Captain Kirk; these things happen. I hear your crew suffered some unfortunate intoxication?"

"Ah-ha," Jim scratched the back of his neck, "you heard about that, did you? Word travels fast."

Her eyes twinkled as she said, "Indeed it does. It's for the best you came when you did, anyway - there seems to be a problem with the supplies we're supposed to beam over."

Jim sobered, sitting a little straighter in his face. "What kind of problem, Captain?"

Ito's lips twisted in thought. "It's the strangest thing: we did a preliminary transfer of the vaccine down planetside for some of our crew to test, but - I don't know. Something about the transporter beam just makes the compound break down. I know it's a bit of an inconvenience, but do you mind sending a shuttlecraft over to receive the shipment? We just don't have the time or manpower to figure out why it's disintegrating."

Jim blinked once before breaking out into a wide smile. "No, it's no trouble at all. Let me just grab a couple extra hands and we'll pop right over."

"Thank you for being so understanding, Captain," Ito replied with a slight bow. "We look forward to your arrival."

"My pleasure, Captain. Kirk out." The transmission and Kirk bit at his lip before calling, "Mr. Chekov! If you'll accompany me?"

The Russian turned around with wide, hopeful eyes. "Aye, sir!" he chirped, standing from his station and striding over.

Jim hid his smile with a cough and thumbed open the intercom on his chair. "Kirk to Engineering. You busy, Scotty?"

"No' at the moment, sir," came the quick reply. "Y'got somethin'?"

"We gotta take a shuttlecraft over for those vaccines," Jim explained. "Feel like taking a little field trip?"

"Aye, sir," Scotty answered with an audible grin, "ya know I never turn down a chance to check out a good engine."

Jim snorted. "Scotty, we're not going to be there _that_ long. Hangar deck in ten; Kirk out." With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to Chekov and finally let his grin out. "After you, Mr. Chekov."

As the turbolift doors slid shut, Jim sighed and turned back to the ensign with a frown. "Listen, Chekov-" He paused and clacked his teeth together a few times. "I know I haven't been easy to work with these past two weeks - and to you especially-"

Chekov looked mildly alarmed and flailed a hand. "No Keptin, not at all-"

"Bullshit." Jim quirked a wry grin. "I'm sorry, Chekov." He clapped the younger man on the shoulder and stepped out of the lift with a little bounce in his step.

_Finally_ , something for Jim to do.

***

"Welcome aboard, Captain," Ito called, one hand raised in a wave.

Jim returned the gesture and said, "Thank you, Captain Ito. This is my Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott and my Navigator Pavel Chekov."

Her eyes lit up. "You're the one who tried transporting Admiral Archer's dog," she accused, beaming at the man before turning to Chekov with, "and you just published a new paper on warp mechanics. That's a fine crew you've got, Kirk."

Jim practically glowed at the praise. "The finest in the 'Fleet, ma'am," he replied with the tip of an imaginary hat.

"Watch it, Kirk," Ito said with a wink. "Walk with me; my crew can handle loading the crates." As she led Jim away, she turned to shout back, "Mr. Scott, Mr. Chekov, you're more than welcome to explore Engineering or the Science Departments while you wait."

Scotty shrugged, turning on his heel towards one of the consoles and murmuring, "Now, let's see about the specs on this ol' girl."

"You know," Chekov started conversationally, "ze computer was inwented in Russia."

"Are you completely daft?" Scotty raised an eyebrow at the other man. "It definitely was not."

"I can't believe the Captain is making us load up all these boxes," one of the ensigns groaned.

"Vait," Chekov whispered to Scotty, raising a hand to shush him.

"There's nothing even wrong with the transporters," another hissed and Chekov snapped to attention.

"Somet'ing is wrong," Chekov murmured. He grabbed Scotty's wrist and ducked out through the door Jim and Ito had used, setting a fairly brisk pace. "We haf' to find ze Keptin."

"What are you on about now?" Scotty asked with a frown.

"When ze Keptin received Ito's transmission," Chekov started, eyes scanning the corridor, "she said zat ze transporters ver' causing ze waccine to break down, but ze men in zere said zere vas not'ing wrong vit ze transporter."

"Well, maybe they meant in general?" Scotty guessed; he yelped when Chekov yanked him hard around a corner. "Do ya even know where yer' goin', lad?"

"It von't take long to load ze boxes," Chekov replied. "If Keptin Ito vanted to talk to Keptin Kirk alone, she would pick somevhere on zis floor - zere are only so many places zey could go on a cargo ship."

"Anyone ever tell ya yer' a right nosy fella?" Scotty grumbled.

"Yes," Chekov said decisively. He paused and turned back to Scotty with a tilt of his head. "Maybe zis has something to do vit vhy he does not go on away missions anymore. You do not vant to know vhat the Keptin has to say vhen ve are not around?"

"Well, no, I dinna say that," Scotty scoffed. "Lead the way, Mr. Chekov."

***

"You're quite an enigma around Starfleet nowadays, you know," Ito said mysteriously as she led him onto the observation deck.

Jim faltered, blinking up at the other Captain for a moment before recovering. He covered up his discomfort with a charming smile. "An enigma, eh?" he responded lightly. "And just what are they saying about me?"

"That's the thing," Ito murmured, propping her elbows up on the window ledge. "They aren't saying much of anything - which is weird, considering the amount of gossip I've heard about you these past few years." She snuck a glance at Jim's sour face and laughed. "Relax, Kirk; it's all mostly flattering."

"Mostly," Jim repeated sullenly.

She rolled her eyes. "You've gained weight, Kirk," she said then, her hawk-like eyes catching the aborted jerk of his hand. Ito raised one eyebrow. "But not in a way that suggests you've let yourself go. You're not authorized to use the transporter," she continued; she turned her gaze back to the stars.

"Who told you that?" Jim blurted.

Ito's lips curved into a small smile. "Your CMO sent me a transmission. Though I don't think he would have had he know my penchant to pry."

"Like a damn reporter," Jim muttered, locking his hands behind his back to keep from fidgeting.

"So," Ito held up a finger, "One: Starfleet has officially zipped every official's lips upon pain of death - so it's juicy, whatever it is." She flipped up a second finger, her grin widening, and said, "Two: You've gotten fatter. Three," a third finger joined the other two, "You're not allowed to use the transporter. You know who aren't allowed to use the transporter, Kirk?"

Jim grit his teeth and hissed warningly, "Captain _Ito_."

"Babies and pregnant women," she finished, staring over at Jim again. "You don't look like an infant, Kirk."

"Who have you told about this?" Jim demanded; he checked again to ensure the deck was still empty.

"No one," Ito asserted, shooting him a disapproving frown. "Upon pain of death, Kirk - I like my career right now, thank you very much."

Jim sighed in frustration and scrubbed hand over his face. "Goddamn it, is it that obvious?"

"Who the hell has even seen you lately, Kirk?" Ito quipped. She paused, then inquired, "So how far along are you?"

Jim finally relaxed and dropped back to rest against the wall. "Almost fourteen weeks. Explain to me why this is a regular thing people do?"

Ito coughed politely. "To propagate the species for one. I don't know, people like babies?" Jim groaned something incomprehensible and Ito glanced up at the chronometer and cursed. "Ah hell, we should probably get back."

"'Not gonna ask me how I got knocked up?" Jim said airily.

Ito spared him an unimpressed glance. "I assume the way most people do," she drawled.

There was a scuffling-type sound outside the door and Jim straightened with a frown, immediately stalking over to the door. He peered out and hummed. "No one here," he said suspiciously. Jim shot Ito a look.

"I gave the order to shut down this entire hallway, Kirk," she told him. "No one should even be passing by. It's an old ship, Captain," she continued soothingly, "sometimes it just makes noises."

"Yeah, alright," Jim replied, albeit cautiously. "Lead the way then, Captain."

***

"Here, Captain, lemme help ya with that," Scotty started. He stepped out of the lift and twirled back around, taking Jim's hand to help him out.

"Uh-" Jim raised one eyebrow sharply. "Scotty, are you alright?"

"Of course, Captain," Scotty said with a grin. "Don't want ya t' trip now, do we? Have a great day."

The other eyebrow climbed up to meet his other as Jim stared incredulously at his engineer's retreating back. "I-" Jim shook his head and turned back to Chekov. "What's with him?"

Chekov smiled beatifically. "I believe zey let Mr. Scott play around in ze engine room," he replied with a little shrug.

"Ahh," Jim said with that same confused look on his face. "Okay. Well, we got what we came here for, so ahead warp factor four, Mr. Sulu." He hesitated, then: "Mr. Spock, what's our expected arrival time?"

"Four days, six hours, and thirty-two point six minutes, sir," Spock replied dutifully. 

Jim nodded and fiddled with the cord of his necklace, settling into his chair. "Sounds good," he murmured. "Take us out, Sulu."

"Aye, sir."

***

"So you told Ito I can't use the transporter," Jim announced when he strolled in, plopping down in front of McCoy.

Bones blinked and looked up, a frown already spreading across his face. "Now, listen Jim-"

"Thanks," Jim said with a soft smile. "I've missed going on away missions."

"Yeah, well," Bones coughed to clear his throat and looked away, "pretty soon you won't be able to participate in _any_ kinds of missions, so I thought I'd try and get you as many of the non-lethal ones as possible."

Jim wiggled in his seat at that, tamping down the warmth blooming in his stomach. "Is that what you've been talking to Pike about so much lately?"

"That and other things," McCoy replied unhelpfully; he raised an eyebrow at Jim's eager face. "Mind your own damn business, Jim - the world doesn't revolve around you, you know."

"Yours does," Jim quipped with a grin.

"I regret ever having puked on you," Bones snarked back. "Did you come here for a legitimate reason or just to make my life even more damn annoying?"

"I can't do both?" Jim asked, laughing lightly at the sour look McCoy sent his way. "Okay, so M'Benga might've let slip that he's about five seconds away from barring you from sickbay. Come have dinner with me and Uhura and then drink enough for me since I can't?"

Bones sighed and switched the terminal off. "I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Nope," Jim grinned. "Get your ass up and let's go."

"Watch it, mama," Bones threatened, jabbing a finger in Jim's direction. "Or I'll stop combining your hypo supplements."

"You've been _combining_ them?" Jim asked incredulously. "Then why the hell do I still have to take so many everyday?"

"You idiot, do you know how many damn supplements you need to keep your hormones in balance?" Bones growled, swatting at him. "The formula changes almost every week; sometimes I don't feel like mixin' 'em together, you ingrate."

Jim smiled brilliantly and batted his lashes. "Have I ever told you what a great friend you are, Bones?"

"I regret every decision that brought you into my life," Bones retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Come on, let's go eat."

***

"So don't kill me," Uhura started when she joined them in the mess, "but I invited Spock."

"What the hell, Uhura?" Jim sputtered around his tea.

She glared then, the apology melting out of her voice. "Kirk, I'm tired of acting like the kid in the middle of a damn divorce. It's been two weeks and you're still acting like he kicked your favorite puppy."

"He hacked his medical records," Bones accused.

"Bones, I could've hacked your medical records and you'd never know," Jim grumbled into his cup; he shot the doctor a sly glance. "Nice birthmark, by the way."

" _Dammit_ Jim-"

"Why can't you two just fight and fuck like a normal couple?" Uhura asked the ceiling.

Bones choked on his coffee.

"We are _not_ a couple," Jim hissed. "We are the _furthest_ thing from a couple - and, in case you didn't notice, he's not really making that much of an effort, either."

"I am swearing off men forever," Uhura continued to the sky, "if all of them are like you two; I swear to _god_."

"He forgot I told him about _you know what_!" Jim whispered heatedly.

"Oh my god, Kirk, we all forgot what we did." Uhura threw her hands up. "Just _tell him again_."

"No," Jim pouted, glaring into his empty cup.

"Those are your hormones talking, by the way," Bones slipped in.

"I officially hate all of you," Jim announced. "Let me have my own damn mood swings in peace-"

"Jim, he's probably not even going to come," McCoy soothed softly.

"Wrong," Uhura declared. She stood and called out, "I see you, Spock."

"I was not attempting to conceal my presence," Spock replied, hesitantly taking a seat next to Uhura. "Good evening, Lieutenant." He nodded to both Bones and Jim. "Doctor. Captain."

"Jim," Jim told him firmly. " _Jim_. We're not on duty, Spock."

Uhura clapped a hand to her face. "I'm getting a beer. Leonard, do you want anything?"

"The strongest shit you can coax out of that damn machine," McCoy replied. "'Second thought, let me go get my own stash - be right back."

_Traitors_. Jim frowned and stared down into his rice dish. "Sorry, Spock," he muttered, shoving a forkful in his mouth before he could say anymore. 

Spock shook his head. "No, you are correct," he said slowly. "We are off duty. How are you, Jim?"

Jim blinked, swallowing his mouthful, and managed a small smile. "Not too bad. How's your hydrogen experiment going?"

"It is progressing well," Spock confirmed, folding his hands together to rest them on the table. "Though it is too early - and perhaps a bit foolish - to theorize if it would have any effect on a white dwarf."

"Well, we're not exactly drowning in white dwarves at the moment," Jim said with a shrug. "Pretty much all you'll be able to do is speculate."

"Indeed," Spock murmured to the table, frowning softly.

"Hey," Jim said suddenly; Spock looked back up at him. "Am I really allergic to that tea you fed Smithers?"

Spock's eyebrows drew together a fraction and (maybe Jim was imagining it, but) the Vulcan looked uncomfortable for a beat. "It is... not a tea recommended for those who are of failing health," he eventually said, his eyes still locked onto Jim's.

_"However I cannot decipher the connection between my mother's medical records and you dying, Jim."_

Jim whispered, "Spock-"

"Bridge to Captain Kirk."

Jim cursed and stood, stalking over to the wall and flipping on the intercom. "Kirk here," he snapped.

"Sorry to bother you, Captain," the ensign said sheepishly, "but there's a transmission from Admiral Nogura marked 'urgent'."

Jim frowned again. "Really?" _What'd I do to piss him off this time?_

"Should I forward it to your quarters...?" she hesitantly asked.

"Right, of course." Jim shook his head and sighed quietly. "I'll be right there. Thank you, Ensign."

"No problem, Captain."

Jim turned to apologize to Spock, but the Vulcan had already fled.

***

"Tell me why I should even let you keep your ship, Kirk," Nogura demanded the moment Jim connected the transmission.

Jim blinked and blurted, "Excuse me, sir?"

"You take a routine mission like this and end up with your entire crew infected with some type of alien intoxicant, you locked in your damn quarters like a five-year-old, and expect me to believe you're fit for duty?" Nogura glared down his nose at Jim. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, Kirk?"

"With all due respect, Admiral," Jim said through gritted teeth, "less than half of my crew was affected by the pollen. Dr. McCoy-"

"Yes, I know what McCoy was doing!" Nogura snapped. "That doesn't change the fact that you can't seem to do your goddamn job anymore."

Jim _seethed_. "Sir, per Starfleet regulations, you cannot fire or demote me because of my age, race, ethnicity, sex, gender, sexuality, marital status, or any perceived disabilities that I may have, up to and including what is or is not currently residing in my stomach."

"You are captain of the _Enterprise_!" Nogura boomed. "Do you expect to just sit there with your thumbs up your ass for the next six months? You signed a contract, Kirk."

"That's what the chain of command is for, sir," Jim replied coolly; he raised an eyebrow at the man. "My First Officer and Chief Engineer are more than capable of handling a few solo missions - and I can hardly help a biological function, Admiral."

"That _biological function_ ," the Admiral spat, "is nothing more than the byproduct of an alien experiment gone wrong; it shouldn't even _be_ there."

Jim clenched his jaw tight, fingernails digging into his palms. "The circumstances of it all aside, I have no intention of getting rid of this child. If you have a claim to file, Admiral, then you may formally send the charges to me and I will contact my legal representative. Until then, I have a ship to run, _sir_."

After ending the transmission, Kirk sat there for a long time, alone, with trembling hands pressed tight to his face.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all after New Year's! 8D

"What the hell?" Jim blurted, hopping out of his chair and staring down at the seat. He picked up the offending garment and continued, "No, okay seriously - it was cute the first time, but somebody needs to tell me who keeps leaving me these little knitted... gifts."

Sulu bit down hard on a grin and slowly turned around at his station, saying, "I don't know Captain - it _is_ a nice scarf."

"Where are they even _getting_ all this yarn from?" Jim asked no one in particular. "On a _starship_?"

"Captain," Spock gently interrupted. "We are approximately point zero nine light years from Alpha Ophiuchi III."

"That's what, like six hours?" Jim estimated, shrugging and throwing the scarf around his neck anyway. Uhura shot him a look and Jim said, " _What_? It is a nice scarf."

"Six point three one two hours," Spock corrected; he raised an eyebrow at the Human, who flashed him a somewhat tight grin before turning his gaze back to the viewscreen.

It wasn't that Jim didn't want to talk to Spock - he really _did_. He wanted to pull the Vulcan aside and tell him everything, really. However, ever since that last conference with Nogura, nightmares were becoming more and more common - niggling, insidious little torments, burrowing deep in his brain and sinking their poisonous claws in tight. Jim had lost count of how many times he'd died, lost command of his ship, lost his crew, lost Spock, lost the _baby_ over the past few weeks. Bones and M'Benga were doing everything they could, but the intense, REM-induced images seemed to be a byproduct of his little passenger's neural spikes and were, unfortunately, not very treatable.

Consequently, meditation was becoming more of a thing.

Jim snuck a quick glance at the back of his First Officer's head sighed. Even when Jim wasn't stuck meditating the night away, his attempts to talk to Spock were being thwarted at every turn: either he'd just missed Spock, or Spock was on his way to the labs, or Spock was _nowhere to be goddamned found_. It was frustrating and stressful and it made his back hurt and _whatever_ ; Jim knew when he was being avoided. It didn't quite take the sting out, but Jim had more important things to worry about. Like not losing command of his ship. And why his crew was acting so damn _weird_.

"Here you are, Captain," a blonde yeoman said sweetly, popping up beside him with a muffin.

"Thank you, yeoman," Jim replied as he took the plate from her, "but really, I'm fine; you don't have to keep bringing me things."

The muffins _were_ delicious, though, Jim had to admit - even if it did cause Bones to bitch and moan about him not following his meal plan.

"You keep eating junk like that and you're gonna get fat, Jim," McCoy warned when he caught Jim with another muffin about an hour later, hypo at the ready. "Copper time - get over here."

The sting seemed gentler than usual, but Jim winced out of habit more than anything. "I'm already getting fat," Jim grumbled, rubbing his neck. "Might as well enjoy it."

"Fat in a 'stretch marks' way," McCoy retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Speaking of - lift up your shirt and let me see."

"Bones, really?" Jim whined, yanking up the edge of his tunic anyway. The doctor frowned and started to prod at the bulge low in Jim's belly; Jim hissed and bit out an " _ow_!"

"I was afraid of this," McCoy murmured as he smoothed Jim's shirt back down. "We're gonna have to keep an eye on how this goblin keeps growing in: it's pretty low already, even for Vulcan standards."

"Is it dangerous?" Jim asked, fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

"Not necessarily," Bones continued, still frowning, "but it's not going to be very comfortable for you."

Jim groaned. "Great. Just what I wanted to hear."

"Quit your whinin', mama," Bones said with some affection. "Want me to pull the 4D up and see if we can't figure out the sex?" Jim's lips twisted and he looked off to the side. "Do you want to call Nyota down first?" Bones tried again; he snapped his fingers in front of Jim. "Hey, come on, Jim-"

"Spock thinks I'm dying," Jim blurted, squeezing his eyes shut. "I keep - I keep trying to tell him I'm not, but I can't get him to sit still long enough to _listen to me_."

"Ah hell," McCoy muttered. He sighed a rubbed a hand over his face. "I can call him down to sickbay and you can tell him right now," he offered, finger hovering over the intercom button.

"No," Jim said miserably; he buried his face in his hands. "Yes? I don't know. Shit. Is he gonna freak out? He's gonna freak out - he's going to ask for a transfer - no, he's going to Vulcan-choke me because I waited four months to _tell him_."

"No one is going to Vulcan-choke you, kid," Bones told him. He clapped Jim on the back softly. "Go take a walk and clear your head. Come back when you feel better, go back to the bridge, whatever. You got about five hours 'till we hit Alpha Ophiuchi III, at any rate."

Jim perked at that. "Wait. Do I actually get to go on an away mission?" he asked, lips pulling back into a wide grin. 

McCoy's eyes narrowed and he jabbed a finger in Jim's direction. "If you don't use the transporter _and_ you take me or M'Benga."

"Choices, choices," Jim sighed, his eyes glittering. "Deal and deal. You wanna help me fit my fat ass into my new dress uniform?"

"I'm a doctor, not your mommy, Jim," Bones said; one corner of his mouth twitched. "Now get, mama. Come back when you figure out what you wanna do."

"Love 'ya, Bones," Jim chirped, grabbing the man in a one-armed hug before jogging out.

***

Jim ended up crawling around in engineering for a few hours - at least until Scotty had found him and shooed him out (who was still practically floating on air every time Jim saw him; had he gotten laid or something?). It cleared his head (and singed his fingers, but shit happens) at any rate, and a new, fierce flare of determination surged up inside him.

 _I'm going to do it_ , Jim thought, a bit grimly. _The worst that Spock can do is transfer off. I can do this_. It sent the little thing growing inside him into something of a squirming fit, but Jim just grit his teeth and told it to _calm_ down, who was the one hosting it now? Not Spock.

"I'm talking to myself," Jim mumbled aloud. "I'm going insane. Food first."

Sulu and Chekov were already in the mess when he arrived, so Jim strode over to greet them, detouring wide around a group of giggling ensigns. The helmsman spotted Jim first, abruptly dropping his grin and making shooing motions at his companion. Jim raised a brow and peered around Chekov's shoulder, who flinched and hid his hands in his lap.

"Mr. Chekov," Jim said slowly, darkly, a tiny wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. "What've you got there?"

"Keptin! You are here early," Chekov squeaked; he jerked his hands further under the table. "Not'ing at all, sir," he continued a bit shakily.

" _Chekov_ ," Jim repeated. Chekov managed a small sound of misery, pulling his hands back out and presenting the lump of yarn to his captain. Jim frowned. "You're the one who knit me the scarf?" Chekov nodded, his cheeks already a startling shade of pink. "The mittens?" The Russian nodded again. "The sweater?" Jim asked incredulously and Chekov covered his face with his hands.

"Knitting vas inwented in Russia," Chekov mumbled into his palms. "My мaмa taught me how."

Sulu bit down on his lip very, very hard.

"Chekov-" Jim faltered, then rested a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. "I'm very flattered, but-"

"It is not zat!" Chekov insisted, letting his head fall to the table with a loud _thud_.

Sulu took pity on his friend. "Sir," he started hesitantly. "It's probably my fault. I mentioned you seemed to be bundling up lately on the bridge and, honestly, if Pavel had made me one more cozy for my plant pots, I might've taken his needles and thrown them in the recycler."

"Chekov, why didn't you just tell me?" Jim whispered, taking the chair next to them so they could be - well, sort of - at eye level. "It certainly would've saved me a lot of hair pulling when I was trying to figure out who kept sneaking onto the bridge to leave me presents."

"I am a terrible person," Chekov told the table.

Jim's jaw dropped in alarm and he said, "No, no, you're not!" He patted Chekov on the shoulder again. "Honestly, it's fine, it's really fine - they're some of the nicest presents I've ever gotten."

Chekov slowly picked his head up, eyes wide and cheeks still burning hot. "You zink so?"

"Yes," Jim said firmly. "It really is a nice sweater, Chekov. But how'd you get the replicator to give you that much yarn?"

Chekov beamed. "Mr. Scott and I spent a few ewenings vit ze replicator; it vas wery fun."

Jim smiled back. "I'm glad, Chekov. Well, ah, carry on then; I'm just gonna get some lunch."

"Seriously, Kirk? How many of those things are you going to eat today?" Uhura asked Jim when she joined him at his table.

"It is not my fault my yeoman keeps bringing me snacks," Jim retorted, taking an over-large bite of his chocolate muffin.

Uhura regarded him as if he were a small, slow child. "You don't think it's odd that half the crew is suddenly going out of their way to do things for you?"

"Hey, I gave them, what, almost three days of shore leave last week? On a near perfect replica of Earth might I add." Jim pouted a bit, poking at the uneaten half of his muffin. "I'm a great captain."

"You are a great captain," she said graciously, "but it's still fishy."

Jim quirked a brow. "Fishy how? There's no way they know, Uhura. _How_ would they?"

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Out of all of us, who's the one with the biggest mouth, Kirk?"

"Was that an innuendo?" Jim asked with hint of a smirk. "Because I gotta tell you-"

"No," Uhura told him firmly.

Jim laughed low in his throat. "Uhura-"

"I don't want to hear another thing about your dick," Uhura cut off, knuckles pressed to her lips in an effort to hide her smile, "or how horny you are - Kirk, I just don't _care_." Jim snorted and opened his mouth, but she continued with, "Go have sex with Leonard if you're that desperate."

"Maybe I will," Jim shot back, making a face at her.

Uhura smiled, slow and strong. "Maybe you should," she dared.

Jim narrowed his eyes and hissed, "I am not playing gay chicken with you."

"You would lose," Uhura told him with a smirk. "Also Captain Ito sent you a package marked urgent - I dropped it off in your quarters before I came here."

Jim cursed and shoved the rest of the muffin in his mouth. "Alright," he managed after he'd swallowed. "We've got about an hour until we hit Alpha Ophiuchi. I'll just," Jim grabbed his tea and downed half of it in one gulp, "meet you all up on the bridge when I'm done."

"Bye, Kirk," Uhura said over her shoulder before turning back to her lunch.

***

" _Bones_ ," Jim shrieked into the intercom.

McCoy answered about ten seconds later, breathing heavily, "Jim?"

" _Who_ -" Jim's voice cracked and he tried again, "Please tell me no one scanned the package Captain Ito just sent me, Bones _tell me no one scanned it_."

"How the hell should I know?" Bones asked crankily.

"She sent a _breast pump_!" Jim growled a noise of distress and reached over to throw his pillow at the wall. "You said I wouldn't be breastfeeding!"

"I s-said you couldn't, Jim," Bones said, his voice high and tight. "I don't go around sharing details of your medical file with other captains, I-" There was an odd hitch of breath from the other side of the line. " _Jesus_ , Jim, just-" The comm switched off abruptly.

"You're laughing at me!" Jim told the empty line angrily. He smacked the wall with the side of his palm. "Goddamn it, Bones!"

"Oh Christ," Bones said a few seconds later, still gasping from laughter. He sighed happily. "I'll send that woman a fruit basket or something."

"You are a terrible person," Jim hissed. "I hope space eats you."

"Now, now, no need to get nasty, mama," Bones teased. "Don't forget to send her a thank you card-"

"I hate you," Jim said testily, shutting off the comm and stalking out of his cabin -

\- and straight into Spock.

"Spock," Jim started; the side of his mouth twitched up in a half grin. Perfect, excellent, thank you Lady _Enterprise_. "Are you busy right now?"

"Captain." The Vulcan inclined his head ever so slightly. "I am on my way to the bridge at present."

Jim licked his lips and sighed. So that's how this was going to go; Jim should've expected it, really. "Listen, Spock, I really gotta talk to you-"

"We will be arriving in orbit of Alpha Ophiuchi III within the hour," Spock smoothly stated. "Would it not be wise to begin preparation for the diplomatic mission at hand?" He glanced down at Jim's normal work attire and raised one eyebrow.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Jim asked instead, staring steadily up at his First Officer. He ground his teeth together and shook his head. "Shit, no, that's not what I wanted to say. Five minutes. Give me five minutes?"

Spock stared at Jim for such a long time, Jim considered repeating himself. Finally, he nodded slowly and Jim turned on his heel, following the Vulcan into his quarters.

Of all the things Jim wanted to say, what came out first was, "My offer still stands, Commander: if you really feel like you can't work with me, I'll file the proper paperwork immediately." It wasn't the best, or even wisest, conversation starter, but it was just as well. If Spock wanted to transfer off, well... It was his decision, in the end.

Spock faltered for a beat and he clasped his hands rigidly behind his back. "That is... unnecessary, Captain," Spock said, his head turned slightly away. "My behavior has been unprofessional as of late."

Jim smiled sadly. "You've been nothing but professional, Mr. Spock." He sighed and eased down into the closest chair. "I've been keeping something from you," he began, just above a whisper.

"I... am aware," Spock replied, the line of his spine so taut Jim thought it would snap.

"No," Jim continued with a shake of his head, "I don't think you are."

"Perhaps," Spock blurted suddenly, whirling back to face Jim, his eyes wide and just slightly desperate, "we should speak after the mission - when there is more time. Jim, I have behaved deplorably," Spock told him, his eyebrows knitting together. "You are my friend and I have- avoided you; I have, in all respects, acted as though we have terminated our friendship. I do not-" Spock hesitated again. "I do not want that, Jim."

Jim braced his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together, propping his chin on his hands. "I don't want that, either, Spock," he admitted quietly, "but your words and actions paint a different picture altogether." It _hurt_ , in all honesty. Jim wasn't kidding himself - some of that blame was his to bear, too - but there was only so hard you could push a Vulcan, and Jim had been far too exhausted lately to put forth the proper effort.

Spock didn't even comment on the idiom. "I have," he whispered, "been unsure. I have..." Spock grimaced slightly, "felt _conflicted_."

"Shit," Jim cursed softly and closed his eyes for a beat. "I'm not trying to push you to talk about things you don't want - I mean, I am, but. _Shit_." Jim grabbed the cord of his necklace and slipped the pendant from around his neck, offering it one-handed to Spock. "Alright; let's talk after the mission. How does nineteen-thirty sound?"

Spock stepped over, reached out, and gently took the necklace from Jim, his expression unreadable. "It is quite acceptable," he answered finally, still staring down at the tiny holo-emitter.

"That's for you," Jim said firmly. "You can look at it now or later - your choice."

"I will wait," Spock replied, "for you."

Jim smiled then, warmth fanning out to the tips of his fingers and toes. The baby wiggled inside him. "Until tonight, then, Mr. Spock."

"Yes," Spock confirmed. "Until tonight."

***

"You should probably stop breaking the transporter every time I need to use it," Jim muttered to Uhura as they stepped out of the shuttlecraft, quirking an amused grin at her. "It's thoughtful, but Scotty's going to start having fits."

Uhura's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?" she whispered back. "I thought Leonard arranged for us to use the shuttlecraft."

Jim faltered, whipping back around to stare suspiciously at the shuttlecraft. "He did," Jim confirmed, "but only because Scotty came and told us the transporter was acting up."

"He _what_?" Uhura hissed.

" _Please bow for the arrival of the Honorable Chancellor_ ," a thin reptilian sang as he slid back the sheer curtain at the end of the hall.

The inhabitants of Alpha Ophiuchi III were bipedal humanoids with brightly-colored, scale-covered skin and long, slender appendages that brought them to an average height of two and a half meters. They were a proud, dignified race who adhered to the strictest of hierarchies - that is, they believed in a chain of command such that the highest ranking official spoke for everyone, and that everyone beneath that official bowed their head and waited to be spoken to.

Basically, if you weren't the Captain, they didn't give a shit about you.

"This is the main meeting hall," Chancellor Korden explained. "It is where the rest of your party will wait while His Highness and yourself discuss the terms of the treaty."

Jim felt more than saw the disapproval suddenly emanating from his First Officer as he fought to keep his gaze level with the chancellor. Beside him, Bones narrowed his eyes and started to step forward, but Uhura laid a gentle hand on his arm to stop him.

"Chancellor," Jim started slowly, fingers overlapping and palms facing the floor to signify respect, "I was not told ahead of time that the proceedings would take place separate from the rest of my crew."

"It is what our law dictates," Korden replied, yellow eyes narrowing. "Only you may speak with His Highness."

"I am aware of that," Jim continued in a soothing tone. "However, Lt. Uhura is highly skilled in xenolinguistics and my First Officer, Commander Spock, is a Vulcan-"

" _Half_ -Vulcan," Korden corrected sharply. He steepled his long fingers together in front of his nose. "We have done our research as well, Young Captain."

Jim, very carefully, kept his features neutral. "You are correct, sir: he is half-Vulcan. Be that as it may, it's not exactly... customary for the captain of a starship to attend a conference such as this without at least a security officer."

"You doubt us? You do not approve of _our_ guards?" Korden accused as he gestured to the numerous sentry men lining the hall and the corridor beyond. "Do your _Federation_ officials not host private meetings?"

"You are not yet a member of the Federation," Jim reminded him, "and we are in a foreign world. Now, we made a show of good faith coming here without our weapons - only my two security officers have kept their phasers, as you requested. If you would permit it," he continued, hands still lowered, "my First Officer will scan the room I am to go over the treaty with your leader in for any potential hazards - I say that's fair." He turned to glance at Spock out of the corner of his eye, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

McCoy obviously didn't share Spock's approval. "Captain-" he began.

"Your opinion has not been requested," Korden hissed lowly; a forked tongue flicked out between his teeth and he turned back to Jim. "It is an acceptable request; I shall go speak to his Highness at once."

After Korden had slunk away, Uhura turned to Jim, her expression wary. "There are way too many guards here to be normal," she said, pursing her lips.

"Uhura, we're as much a stranger to them as they are to us," Jim told her gently. "Maybe they're just taking some extra precautions - maybe this _is_ normal for them."

"Why is it normal to keep a guard at every door then?" Uhura wondered aloud, her sharp eyes scanning the room.

"The Lieutenant is correct," Spock spoke up. "The amount of security in any given area is usually directly related to the amount of crime-"

"Forget the crime," Bones spat. "We left our phasers on the ship and he wants you to go to a meeting _alone_ with someone who we haven't even seen on the viewscreen!"

"His Highness," Korden announced with flourish, "has graciously granted your request. Furthermore," he bowed low, his spine curving sharply, "he has accepted the reasoning for your hesitance to a private meeting and, in an effort to show _our_ good faith, will allow you to seat your security guards outside the door."

Jim smiled. "That's wonderful to hear, Chancellor. Mr. Spock?"

Spock inclined his head and together they followed Chancellor Korden down a long, winding corridor (with more guards yet still) until they finally reached a tall white door, golden serpents etched in a spiral in the center. When the Chancellor escorted Spock in, Jim turned to his two security officers.

"I know it's a little unorthodox," Jim said, "but this is a peaceful meeting; I'll be in and out in practically no time."

"Of course, sir," Gerard replied.

Alberts saluted and said, "We'll be right here the entire time if you need anything."

Jim smiled. "Of that I have no doubt," he told them; Spock slipped back out into the corridor, the Chancellor following close behind, and Jim asked, "Everything check out, Mr. Spock?"

"My tricorder found nothing amiss, Captain." Spock hesitated and then: "I shall see you shortly, sir."

Jim's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Of course Mr. Spock." Jim nodded to Korden. "Chancellor." Finally, he gave his security officers a quick salute. "See you all on the flipside."

***

"What've you got there, Spock?" Nyota asked, peering curiously over at the Vulcan's hands.

Spock glanced down for a beat. Then he opened up his hands and said, "The Captain requested I take it and watch it when I see fit."

Uhura inhaled sharply through her nose as she stared at the holo-emitter. "And have you?" Uhura prompted, her voice strangely tight.

Spock shook his head. "I have decided to wait until we return to the ship. We have," he hesitated, "much to discuss."

"I see," Nyota whispered; her gaze flickered to McCoy on the other side of the room. "I'm glad."

Spock turned the necklace over in his hands and frowned. "I confess I am unsure why I elected to keep it on my person," he admitted. "It would have been more logical to leave it on the ship."

Uhura clacked her teeth together before blurting, "Spock-"

The ground beneath them shuddered abruptly. Spock immediately slipped the pendant around his neck and turned to offer a steadying hand to Uhura, who had nearly lost her balance. A chunk of ceiling fell and smashed against the tabletop.

"What the hell?" McCoy barked.

Above them, the lights flickered before sputtering out, sending the room into total darkness. Spock could hear the clicking footsteps of the guards scurrying into action - all heading towards the corridor.

Spock pulled out his communicator, already moving to follow them; he could hear Nyota and the Doctor running behind him. "This is Commander Spock," he said into the device, "there seems to be a problem-"

"No _shit_ ," Bones hissed.

Spock ignored him. "Request immediate lock-on of the Captain's signature for emergency beam-up."

McCoy insisted sharply, "Dammit Spock, he can't-"

"Sir," Scotty replied then, his voice slightly unsteady, "I cannae get a lock on the Captain."

" _What_?" Uhura growled; she yelped as she stumbled into a wall, skinning the palms of her hands. "Son of a bitch!"

Suddenly, the lights blinked back on, flooding the hallway with an almost painful glow. Back in the direction of the meeting hall, a sputtering crackling noise hissed to life.

" _We are the resistance_ ," a voice growled. Spock shared a look with Uhura and McCoy and they wordlessly turned on their heels and sprinted back the way they came. " _You have ignored our demands - ignored our pleas for help, our women's cries, our starving children's_ screams."

Spock burst back into the hall first, panting as he stared up at the giant holo projected on the wide, white wall.

" _So we have taken matters into our own hands_ ," the hooded figure continued; it reached out of the shot and yanked up the head of the King of Alpha Ophiuchi III, scales ripped bloody from his face. " _We have taken your leader and_ -"

"No," Bones whispered as he skidded in behind Spock, trembling fingers dug into Nyota's arm.

"- _we have taken your key to the_ Federation." Jim's face appeared then by a second hand, one eye swollen shut and his lip split.

Spock grew very cold inside.

" _Since you have not heeded our warnings_ ," it spat, " _you will now see the consequences of your actions_." It turned and handed Jim off to someone off-camera and then the hooded figure exclaimed, " _Execute the Federation Captain_."

The chill in his ribcage slipped down into his heart and consumed him.

Spock stared into the faceless figure's eyes and _burned_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Testy, testy little fiends you are 8') School starts for me on Monday, so updates are probably going to slow down again, I'm sorry darlings ♥ Thank you for understanding.

"Spock," Uhura whispered.

"Mr. Chekov," Spock started, turning away from Nyota's soft, sad face, hands clasped behind tight his back. "Navigation does not need your presence at present. Please move to the science station and assist Mr. Chen in attempting to find the origin of that transmission. Mr. Sulu," Spock continued sharply, "you will return to the planet with me to retrieve the Captain."

Sulu regarded Spock with wide eyes. "Sir?" he asked.

"Spock," Uhura said again, veering around the captain's chair to move closer to the stiff Vulcan.

Spock avoided her touch and stalked across the bridge to the science station. With a hard glance, he sent Chen off to the turbolift and took his place, fingers flying across the keys. "As Doctor McCoy is still in surgery with Mister Gerard and Miss Alberts, Doctor M'Benga will be accompanying the away team to perform any necessary medical procedures. Mr. Chekov?"

"The signal vas wery veak, sir," Chekov hesitantly stated. "But I believe I can find it."

"The broadcast began four point two minutes after the explosives hit the building," Spock told him. "They cannot have travelled far in that amount of time."

" _Spock_ ," Uhura snapped, digging her fingers into his shoulder and spinning him around. "What do you think you're doing?"

Spock met her eyes evenly, one eyebrow raised. "I have assumed the role of Acting Captain and am currently organizing a rescue party for the Captain." He turned back to his station and clicked on the intercom. "Mr. Scott: please have a shuttlecraft ready for transport for when we find the Captain."

"Spock, you can't-" Uhura gnashed her teeth together and broke a little inside. "Spock, you _saw_ what happened on the transmission."

"You will not be a member of the away party, Lieutenant," Spock replied, eyes glued to his terminal. He pressed a fingertip to a random scramble of numbers and spread his fingers to enlarge it. "Here - this is where they rerouted their signal."

"Aye, Mr. Spock," Chekov meekly murmured.

Uhura shook her head. "Spock, you're not thinking clearly," she said lowly, worrying at her lip. "Let me just call Scotty to the bridge and-"

"Your assistance is not required for this, Lieutenant," Spock said. "Please return to your station and assist in unscrambling the transmission's origin or remove yourself from the bridge."

"The hell I will," Uhura retorted, grabbing his arm and turning him around again. "Spock, I understand that you are upset, but-"

"I am a Vulcan," Spock declared; he removed his arm from her grip and stood to stare down his nose at her. "I do not become 'upset'. Furthermore, the method you used to arrive at your conclusion of the Captain's supposed status is flawed - as we did not actually see an execution take place, I must assume that Captain is still alive and well and use every resource at my disposal to liberate him."

The entirety of the bridge crew was staring at them now, save for Chekov, who was still tapping away at the terminal.

Uhura took a deep, slow breath. "You are behaving irrationally," she told him firmly. "This is officially a civil issue now, Spock, and we can't interfere-"

"You will remove yourself from the bridge, Lieutenant Uhura," Spock asserted, his voice rising, "or I will have you confined to your quarters. I will be transporting down to the planet and retrieving the Captain. As I will not be intervening in the Ophians' affairs," he continued, "the Prime Directive is in no danger of being violated."

"Please call Scotty up to the bridge, Spock," she pleaded just above a whisper. "You know that you're emotionally compromised right now."

" _This is what is happening_ ," Spock viciously hissed. " _This is what is logical_."

Silence fell over the bridge as if someone had wrenched the very life from them. Spock's heartbeat thundered in his ears as he stared down at his friend. The holo, still around his neck, burned like a brand into his skin. His insides were on fire.

"I have found the origin of the transmission," Chekov weakly said, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.

Spock handed him his tricorder. "Transfer the data," he demanded. "Mr. Sulu - you will accompany me to the transporter room." Uhura opened her mouth to speak again, but Spock cut her off, "Lieutenant Alden, you have the conn."

Spock turned on his heel and let the flames consume him.

***

Spock pressed brutal fingers to the meld points of the guerilla Ophian and commanded, "You will tell me where you have taken Captain James T. Kirk."

The man gagged on his saliva. "W-we were not made aware of the location," he sputtered. "Only that they w-were to be moved after the initial transmission."

"And was he alive after the transmission?" Spock asked lowly.

"I d-do not know," he replied.

Spock pinched the nerve to render him unconscious and tossed him to the side. He turned to Sulu and M'Benga. "I was able to discern the location of the headquarters they used prior to the attack," he told them. "We will start there." Spock turned and pressed a nondescript tile on one of the stone columns and the floor opened up in a slender ellipse.

"Their headquarters is _under_ the palace of the opposition?" Sulu said incredulously. "Sneaky." He peered down at the opening. "Also: that is a very tiny hole."

Spock rolled his shoulders and sat on the floor, easing in feet first. "The Ophians are multi-jointed," he explained as he slid his legs down. "They would not have need of a larger entryway."

"Spock," M'Benga started gently. "Should we really be going into a place where we could be easily ambushed?"

"The tunnel opens up after this initial enclosed area," Spock revealed, "and this is our only lead at present." When Spock's ribcage caught on the lip of the opening, he grunted and twisted back and forth to try and shove his way down. Spock grit his teeth and lifted his arms higher, contracting his shoulder blades. "Mr. Sulu," he called. "Assistance, if you would."

"You want me to pull you back up?" Sulu asked as he knelt down beside the Vulcan.

Spock shook his head. "I cannot get the proper leverage to push myself down - I would like you to compact my upper body and force me into the tunnel."

"What?" Sulu squeaked.

"There is no way I'm fitting down there," M'Benga interjected. "I'm too broad."

"That is acceptable, Doctor," Spock replied. Then, to Sulu: "Your frame is significantly smaller than mine, Lieutenant: you should not have the same problem."

"Spock, this isn't going to be comfortable," Sulu told him.

"Then you must do it quickly," Spock said with a raise of his brow.

"Hey!" a voice called from the end of the hall.

"Federation!" M'Benga barked back.

Sulu sighed, set his hands on Spock's shoulders, and shoved down hard; Spock hissed as he felt his shirt give way and the skin break. His boots clicked to the floor four seconds later and he ducked down, stepping into the large passageway.

"I got this," M'Benga whispered. "Go."

Sulu wiggled down after Spock and, with a nod, they took off at a jog, Spock navigating through the underground maze with ease - by the memories stolen from the Ophian above.

"Lieutenant-" Spock said quietly.

"Jim jumped off a drill to save me," Sulu replied, eyes glued to Spock's back. "No hesitation, just - jumped off and held on tight. He didn't even know me," he continued with a shake of his head. "I'll follow that man to hell."

Spock exhaled and turned the final corner into the base.

***

Unsurprisingly, the base was abandoned, but the Ophian guerillas had been in such a hurry to evacuate that they'd left nearly everything behind: boxes, leftover rations, empty weapons cartridges, and the like. Spock flipped on the only non-broken terminal and set to work.

Sulu took his phaser out and began to scout around the rest of the concrete depot, carefully nudging overturned boxes with his boot.

"There may still be explosives present," Spock called out. "Use caution."

Sulu flinched, but resumed his search, pushing through a thick, dark curtain and into another room. The helmsman inhaled sharply as he stared down at the deep red stains on the floor. "There's no body," Sulu shouted over his shoulder; he swallowed and stilled the trembling in his jaw before continuing. "There's about half a liter of blood on the floor - can't tell whose."

"Then it is logical to assume the Captain was not executed in this room," Spock responded as he strode in; he took in the sight of the splatters on the floor and his eyes hardened. "I have acquired a portion of data from the damaged drives. Is there a signal to the _Enterprise_ in this room?"

Sulu swallowed again and took out his communicator. "I think so," he murmured. "Sulu to _Enterprise_."

Scotty's voice came near instantly. "Aye, Mr. Sulu."

"We have some information that needs unscrambling," Sulu continued; beside him, Spock nodded. "Transmitting now if you can get a lock on it."

There was a pause and then: "Aye, Sulu. We got a weak signal."

"Sending now," Spock confirmed. "Alert us the moment you have decoded the data, Mr. Scott."

"Aye, Mr. Spock."

***

Was it logical to feel as if one's blood were boiling?

***

Spock's focus funneled down to a relentless cycle of run, seek, incapacitate, Jim, Jim, _Jim_.

"Where is Captain James T. Kirk?" Spock whispered, both hands pressed to the Ophian's face.

The woman's eyes glazed over and she shook her head near violently. "No, no, no, no," she chanted. "Will not tell you - cannot tell you."

"We know where the Captain is," Spock murmured soothingly. "We must tell."

"No we- we must not," she insisted, fangs sinking into her thin lips.

"Tell us," Spock repeated firmly. " _Tell us_. We do not care of the king - we can keep the king."

"The king," she sobbed. "A horrible tyrant. We do not receive food or shelter or medicine when we are sick. The guards - they violate us, they murder our _children_ -"

"The Captain is a good man," Spock told her. "He does not condone these actions."

" _He met with the king_!" she screeched, pin-sharp claws digging into the flesh of his arms. " _He was to let that - that_ monster _become a member of the Federation_?" She wailed loudly. " _Is that justice_?!"

"We will not let that happen," Spock insisted vehemently. "We will inform Starfleet of what is happening."

"We will not allow another day under that man's rule!" she cried, eyes fluttering shut. "Please, _please_."

"You may do as you see fit with the king," Spock replied; he pressed their foreheads together. "My Captain is ill and requires medical attention, Seenai. I must know where he is."

Seenai moaned low in her throat. "He is in the catacombs," she divulged, then passed out on the floor.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Sulu confessed.

***

The catacombs beneath the royal city were pitch black, damp, and stifling with the stench of death. Sulu was gagging and had Spock's autonomic control not been what it was, he surely would have been, as well. With one hand pressed to the dripping, foul stone, Spock eased his way down the narrow staircase, footsteps nearly silent as he moved; Sulu matched the Vulcan's pace exceptionally well, even despite the difficulties he was experiencing.

Suddenly, Spock snapped off his light and pressed Sulu back against the slimy wall, clapping a hand to the other man's mouth. Three snakes slithered by in the dark, hissing. As they passed by, they paused momentarily, tongues flicking at the open air. Then they turned sharply on their heels and attacked. Spock pinched two while Sulu stunned the third and Spock switched his light back on, quickening his pace to a swift jog.

Sulu slipped and would have fallen off the steps had Spock not reached out to anchor him.

"Thank you," he breathed.

Spock nodded and continued onward.

***

"It is the only enclosed area in the camp," Spock whispered, pointing out the tent to Sulu as they slunk through dark and dank corners of the base. Spock flattened himself against a partially decayed tomb; gritty ash stung at the scrapes on his sides and he forcefully contained his wince. "If the Captain has been brought to this place, he will surely be in there."

"Spock, are you sure about this?" Sulu murmured back. Pressing his lips tight against the muck he knelt in, the helmsman lowered his chest to the floor so he could peer over the ledge and still remain concealed. He huffed out a tight breath. "There's got to be at least forty Ophians crawling around down there," he continued. "How are we going to sneak past them and then again with a third?"

Spock pursed his lips thoughtfully. "We do not have the time to reason with them all," he eventually said. "I will create a distraction and draw as many of them away from the tent as possible. You will have to make your way through the rest. Once you have secured the Captain," Spock took out his phaser and turned the dial to the highest setting below _kill_ , "I will attempt to herd them back away from the staircase we entered from and you will bring the Captain to safety and signal the shuttlecraft to pick you up."

"No way," Sulu blurted, scrambling up and back against the wall with Spock.

Spock shot him a hard look. "This is a direct order, Lieutenant; you are more than equipped to handle this."

"No," Sulu repeated, shaking his head. "I mean, how do you expect me to get the drop on whoever they've got guarding the _king_? You're stronger, faster, and you've got your telepathy to boot - you're way better suited to being doing the snatch n' grab than I am. You against forty of those guys, Commander?" Sulu frowned. "That's a suicide mission and you know it."

"You are suggesting I send you to your death, Lieutenant?" Spock asked icily.

"No, I'm suggesting-" Sulu grabbed his own phaser and set it to overload, then wrenched his arm back and threw the thing as hard as he could, "-we make our own distraction and make a run for it!" He grabbed Spock by the arm and skidded down over the ledge just as the phaser's explosion took out a fundamental portion of the opposite wall and ceiling.

"Lieutenant-" Spock hissed.

"No time, people running, walls are crashing," Sulu gasped, shoving through a horde of blue and green Ophians to make his way to the tent. "Honestly, their first priority is going to be to move the king - all other shits will be wasted on getting out and hopefully _not_ on the Captain."

Spock raised an incredulous brow, but kept running. One man skidded to a halt in front of them, claws out and fangs bared; Spock merely backhanded the Ophian to the floor and hastened his gait.

When they burst through the tent flap, shoulders heaving with adrenaline, Spock's first thought was, _Jim is not here and we have done all this for nothing_.

Sulu's gaze darted around the makeshift room and he called breathlessly out, " _Captain_?"

Silence met them and Spock's side seized in utter agony, raw emotion clinging at his throat.

Sulu blinked rapidly, one hand pressed tight to his mouth. The very foundation shuddered around them and he choked out, "We need to get out of here."

Spock nodded, his face carefully blank, and slowly turned around, as if his body was moving of its own accord. _I have used violence as means to an end_ , Spock thought numbly. _I have broken the Prime Directive. I have forsaken nearly everything I have believed all my life for_ -

A dull _thunk_ came from beneath his feet.

Spock and Sulu shared a look and then Spock was immediately on his knees, tossing aside the thick rug. He dug his fingernails into the dense stone. "Jim," Spock whispered to the floor. Illogical in every way, but Spock knew it was Jim, he _knew it_.

The thud came again and Spock whipped around to face Sulu, who was already tearing apart the tent to find the entrance. "What the hell?" Sulu hissed; he kicked over a box and the ground shook again. " _Shit_."

Spock pressed his fingers even further into the stone. His eyes slid shut in concentration and his brow furrowed. "Jim," he said again. "Where is the entrance?"

A chunk of the ceiling crashed through the roof of the tent and smashed to the floor not a meter from Spock's face; slivers of stone ripped mercilessly at his cheek.

"Can you even hear him?" Sulu asked, coughing dust up from his lungs.

"I am attempting to reach him telepathically," Spock murmured. He pressed the side of his face to the floor in addition to his hands.

"Can you do that?" Sulu gasped out as he overturned a particularly large chest.

"I do not know," Spock replied; he grit his teeth in frustration. "I... can feel a presence, but no more."

"Shit, I found it!" Sulu laughed somewhat hysterically as he wrenched back the oblong lid. " _Captain_?"

"What took you guys so long?" a voice rasped back and Spock's head swam as he scrambled over to the hole in the floor.

"We had a little trouble finding you," Sulu shot back, hands trembling. "Next time leave a note, won't you?"

"I'll see what I can do," Jim teased. There was a beat of silence and then: "I- can't move. My leg's broken."

Spock dropped down into the hole and knelt before Jim. "I will carry you," he said simply, gathering the Human in his arms.

"You look like shit," Jim told him, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you watch the holo?"

"There were more pressing matters to attend to," Spock informed Jim as they shuffled their way up; Sulu took him long enough for Spock to climb out and regain his footing. "As I said before: I will wait for you," he continued, cradling Jim almost tenderly to his chest.

"This is a very sweet moment," Sulu interjected, "but we need to be running like, yesterday."

Jim threw his head back in a laugh and held on tight as Spock broke out into a run, dodging around debris even as the world began to crash down around them. The staircase they came in through had already completely collapsed, so Sulu veered them right towards the opposite one, their footsteps echoing off the damp walls.

"Not that I'm not unbelievably grateful," Jim started halfway up the stairs, "but how did you guys even manage to find me? This isn't exactly in the travel brochures."

"You know," Sulu shot back, "for all you call us the finest crew in the 'Fleet, you seem awfully surprised when we actually deliver on that expectation."

"Point taken," Jim conceded. Suddenly he reached around to the phaser in Spock's belt and shot at an Ophian who had been slinking towards them in the shadows. "I've always wanted to do that," he divulged with a grin.

Spock did not deign him with a response.

The door to the catacombs had already been snapped in two, so spilling out into the sunlight was both an easy and welcome thing; Spock's knees nearly buckled in relief, but he kept himself upright for Jim's sake.

"Sulu to Shuttlecraft 3," Sulu gasped into the communicator, the bright smile on his face audible even as he spoke. "We've got the Captain - come and get us."


	13. Chapter 13

"No more diplomatic missions in hostile territories."

Jim blinked and stared up at the figure standing in the doorway. "Okay," he whispered.

McCoy stepped in and the door slid shut behind him. "No more away missions," he continued, knuckles white against the railing of Jim's biobed. "No more missions of any kind."

"Okay," Jim agreed.

"You're going to sit your ass on this ship," Bones weakly croaked, "and you're going to keep yourself out of trouble for the next five and a half months; and when I pull that healthy, green-blooded little imp out of you, you're going to take another three months off - minimum."

"Okay, Bones," Jim rasped. He clenched his jaw hard and dropped his head back to the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Dammit Jim!" Bones burst out, knocking his fists against the metal rails. "They put you up on that screen and said they were going to execute you!" His eyes were wide and just a little wild as he fell back into his customary chair, looking nowhere. "And then you started screaming, Jim, god _damn_ it Jim - you were screaming and then you weren't." McCoy buried his face in his hands.

"I was still screaming," Jim said, voice hollow, fingers clenched tight in the sheets. "They just cut the audio." McCoy swore viciously into his palms. "What about Alberts and Gerard?"

"Gerard lost both his legs," McCoy answered numbly. "Alberts didn't make it."

A wave of emotion crashed over Jim and threatened to drown him. "She just got engaged," he whispered. "Just sent a transmission to Earth to tell her parents 'day before yesterday." Suddenly, Jim shook his head, set both hands against his stomach, and just focused on breathing. _It's okay, you're here, I'm here, we're here, we're okay_.

"What happened down there, Jim?" Bones asked.

Jim tightened the line of his mouth. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"The counseling will be mandatory," Bones told him. "But it doesn't have to be right now - or even with me."

Jim nodded and reached for Bones' hand, nearly gasping at the sharp sting of fear that hit him through the skin. "Thank you," he replied; he hesitated, then: "You don't happen to know where my First Officer ran off to, do you?"

McCoy snorted and rolled his eyes. "That dumbass? He's camped outside waiting for you to wake up. He _tried_ ," Bones spat, "to remand himself to his quarters pending a hearing of 'his conduct'. I should've let the damn robot do it, too - anyone fool enough to do what he did then decide _not_ to stay hovering by your bedside deserves a trial," he finished in a grumble.

"Did you-" Jim choked on a laugh. "Did you use _logic_ on Spock? Worse - emotional logic? And it _worked_?"

"I will deny it to my dying breath," Bones growled, jabbing a finger to the intercom and snapping, "Get your idiot Vulcan ass in here, Commander."

"My posterior is not capable of any type of intellect, Doctor," Spock smoothly replied as he appeared in the doorway. His gaze flickered to Jim and McCoy's joined hands before sliding back up to Jim's face. "Jim," he said then.

The baby growing in his gut decided to remind Jim of its presence and wiggled slightly, jittery warmth gathering and filling Jim fit to burst. "Spock," he countered with a smile.

"On that note," Bones cut in; he gave Jim's hand on final squeeze then released it, striding back towards the door. "Goodnight, Jim."

"Night, Bones," Jim shot back, eyes still on Spock. "So. Wanna be a grownup and talk about our problems with me?"

Spock nodded, sliding in the chair McCoy had just vacated, hands clasped in his lap. He was silent for a few moments, then: "You are pregnant." He hesitantly reached up and laid his hand beside Jim's own, unsure if he should take that final step. "It is mine," he continued quietly.

Jim nodded and folded back the sheet, lifting the baggy sickbay shirt up over his stomach. "Seventeen weeks," Jim told him. "Do you want to...?"

Spock's hand smoothed over the bump of Jim's abdomen and the Vulcan let out a soft sigh. "Seventeen weeks, three days, and two point four hours," Spock confirmed, closing his eyes briefly. "It is a boy."

Jim made a small noise in the back of his throat. "Really?" he laughed wetly; his face only twinged lightly as the freshly healed skin stretched in a wide smile. "I should've told you sooner," Jim continued in a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Spock remained silent for a beat. "I, too, have kept something from you." He raised his eyes to meet Jim's steadily, pointer fingers pressed to his lips, and said, "You have told me this once before. I... did not forget."

Jim sat up, eyebrows climbing towards his hairline, and hissed, " _What_?"

Spock broke the eye contact first. "There was a brief period of time where I could not recall the events that transpired while under the effects of the intoxicant," Spock explained, "however, approximately two point two hours after Doctor McCoy administered the final dose of the antidote, my mind cleared and I... remembered."

"So the past few weeks," Jim accused, his face hardening, "you really have been avoiding me - what? Because you were trying to figure out whether you wanted to get the hell out or not?"

"As I said before," Spock cut in, "I was- unsure. I believed it to be necessary to consider all possibilities before discussing it with you. I did not wish you burden you with my indecision."

"I have spent _months_ ," Jim suddenly burst out, "freaking out about what you were going to do when you found out about this - how I was going to _tell you_. You couldn't have given me a little heads up? Saved me some goddamn stress?"

"You have known that you have been carrying my child for four months," Spock retorted. "You did not think it was important that I was made aware of this fact?"

"I am the goddamn one carrying this thing!" Jim shouted. "Not you - _me_. I'm the one who's had to change my fitness regimen, my meal plan, my damn _uniform_. I am the one who can't use the transporter, who's had to worry about whether or not Starfleet's going to give me the boot because of this kid, the one who's been having non-stop Vulcan-baby-induced _nightmares_. This is my kid, Spock, and if you want to be a part of it, that's great, but let's get one thing straight: I don't _owe_ you anything. I wanted to tell you because you're my friend and my First Officer-"

Spock arched a sharp eyebrow. "You did not think I would wish to take responsibility for the child I helped create?"

"I don't want you to take responsibility!" Jim threw his hands in the air, gritting his teeth in frustration. "I am not a damsel in distress and I don't need you to take care of me and if the only reason you want to be here is because you think you're _responsible_ for this whole thing? Then newsflash: you may have helped make it, but I made the decision to keep it, so that puts it on me."

"You are misunderstanding me," Spock insisted with a shake of his head.

"Then make me understand, Spock," Jim begged, _pleaded_ , "because whatever you're trying to say - I'm not getting it."

Spock surged forward, one hand curling across Jim's neck under his ear, the other to Jim's swollen belly. "Vulcans feel," he started shakily, pressing their foreheads together.

"Vulcans feel very deeply," Jim agreed in a murmur; his eyes slid shut to mirror Spock's own.

"The intensity of my emotions," Spock continued, inhaling in deep the scent of Jim, " _frightens_ me. Jim, you are my friend and I sacrificed all my principles today so that I could bring you back."

"I don't want you to have to sacrifice your principles for me, Spock," Jim whispered.

"I wanted to," Spock told him, thumb stroking lightly against Jim's neck. "Even without this child, my actions would not have differed. At the time, it was logical to me. Yet, when I try to expand upon the reasons for these actions, I find it was not logic at all that spurred my motives."

"You made an emotional decision, Mr. Spock?" Jim teased lightly; he felt Spock furrow his eyebrows and grinned in retaliation.

"I believed you to be dying," Spock continued, and Jim sobered abruptly, "and that the circumstances around your condition to be my fault. I meditated, but it did not help as it should have." The Vulcan exhaled then, warming the skin of Jim's nose and cheeks. "Then I learned you were not dying, but instead that we had created life. We are not married, under Federation or Vulcan law, and yet Vulcan logic dictates that I care for you and this child."

"Spock," Jim murmured.

Spock's jaw tightened and he shook his head, bangs brushing up against Jim's forehead. "I - unjustly - blamed you. I did not want this decision to be made for me."

"I don't want to make this decision for you," Jim answered honestly.

"It is because of this all," Spock said, "that I was conflicted - that I avoided you. After the events that transpired today, Jim-" On Jim's stomach, Spock's fingers shifted and he nearly collapsed at the rush of _reliefjoyblisscontentment_ that flowed through him. "I am no longer unsure. I wish to be here in any capacity you deem fit."

Jim bumped his nose against Spock's, their breath mingling. "The baby likes you," he blurted.

The corner of Spock's mouth twitched. "Yes," he said simply.

Jim snorted. "Such a humble Vulcan," he murmured. "I don't know what I want," he confessed then. "Just that I want you here."

"Then I will remain," Spock replied, pulling back to gently lower Jim back to the pillow. "Sleep now. You are tired."

Jim nodded. "No more secrets," he promised.

"If you ask it of me," Spock confirmed, "I will reply honestly."

Jim fell asleep with a hand in his hair and a warmth in his heart.

***

Pike's transmission came in first thing in the morning, just as Bones was finishing up Jim's daily dose of hypo-induced suffering.

"Let me just reroute it to your PADD, Jim," Bones said, grabbing up the tray of hypos. "Give me one sec'."

"What?" Jim groaned. "Come on, I can just take it in my quarters."

McCoy shot Jim a look fit to kill. "Those scaly bastards tried to blow you up, nearly twisted your ankle in a full circle, beat you senseless, and you think I'm letting you out of this bed?" He scoffed. "Nice try."

"Spock, come on," Jim wheedled, whirling around the face the Vulcan. "I can go rest in my quarters, right?"

Spock regarded him blankly before turning to McCoy and stating, "It is time for the Captain to eat breakfast - I shall return momentarily."

Jim's jaw didn't quite drop, but it was a near thing. " _Traitor_ ," he called; he frowned at Bones. "Are you seriously going to keep me here 'till my leg heals, Bones? I can't use crutches?"

Bones raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Funny," he drawled. "No."

"What about a wheelchair?" Jim weakly tried.

"They're all broken," McCoy said firmly with another glare. "Now shut up and let me go get you a PADD."

"We need you to come back to Earth," Pike started when Jim brought up the call.

Jim paled. "Sir," he stuttered, "I know this last mission was a bit of a disaster, but-"

Pike held up a hand to silence him; his eyes softened and he said, "Jim. Relax. You _need_ some time off. Your ship's overdue for some proper Starfleet maintenance and your crew hasn't seen Earth in nearly twenty months. When's the last time you were this close to our system?"

"Admiral," Jim tried again. "I can assure you that both my First Officer and Chief Engineer are more than capable of commanding the _Enterprise_ while my leg heals-"

"Jim," Pike gently interrupted. "I think you and I both know Commander Spock could benefit from some shore leave as much as you."

Nausea clung to the back of his throat. "Vulcans find vacations to be illogical," he croaked. Jim grit his teeth as the baby went into a wiggling fit; he hissed a breath out. "Pike, I'm _trying_ ," Jim insisted.

"I know you are, Jim." Pike leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk in front of him. "But you were kidnapped, thrown into a hostile environment, tortured-"

"I wasn't-" Jim started to insist, but Pike pinned him with a hard stare and Jim snapped his mouth shut.

"McCoy already sent me his report," Pike continued, jaw tightening. "Don't bullshit me." Jim blinked a few times, gaze darting off to the side, and Chris sighed. "Jim, the other Admirals and I weren't exactly prepared for this - we never-" He laughed then. "You're the first pregnant captain we've ever had, Jim. We need some kind of protocol, because what we're doing just isn't cutting it. Come to Earth, give your crew some leave, let our doctors give you a look over-"

"What's wrong with Bones?" Jim blurted.

Pike held up a warning finger. "You interrupt me one more time and I'm personally inviting you in for a meeting with the other admirals," he threatened, only half-joking. Jim stilled. "I would _like_ for you to see a PTSD specialist while you're here and, if you'll allow it, let some of our doctors take a crack at you - see if we can't figure out the secret to the male pregnancy."

Jim's hands trembled in his lap. "Yeah," he rasped. "Yeah, that's fine. Chris," Jim said then. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Pike paused, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, Jim. What is it?"

"Can you-" Jim broke off and brought his eyes back up to eye-level with Pike, his expression steady despite the tremor in his fingertips. "Can I skip the call from Nogura this time?" he asked quietly. "I don't know if I can... do that right now."

"Nogura-?" Pike cut himself off and his eyes hardened. "You got it, Jim," he confirmed, his voice suddenly deadly. "I'll see you when you get to Earth," he finished abruptly, ending the transmission.

Bones popped in with an extra blanket for Jim to bundle up in and, when Spock returned, the Vulcan sat in a chair beside the bed, laying one hand to the back of Jim's wrist for a beat before turning to his own PADD.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

***

"Hey, Spock...?"

Jim looked up from the stack of reports strewn about his lap. He smiled. "Hey Uhura," he said with a little wave. "You just missed him - he went down to the labs to check on his time-sensitive projects."

Uhura hovered by the doorway, her eyes wide and just a little wet. Then she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tight around Jim's shoulders, face buried in his hair.

"Hey, it's okay," Jim soothed; he smoothed a hand over her hair. "I'm here now; no big deal." Uhura pulled back and smacked him on the ear. " _Ow_ , Uhura, what the hell?"

She sniffled and ran the back of her hand under her nose. "Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" Uhura shook her head. "It _is_ a big deal."

"I know," Jim replied softly, tugging on the end of her ponytail; she swatted Jim's hand away and he asked, "Did you guys get the course change?"

"Yeah," Uhura confirmed. She hesitated, and then: "They're not going to try to ground you because of this, are they?"

Jim chewed on his lip. "Pike says no, but I'm not so sure about what Komack or Nogura will do once I'm there," he admitted. "They're not particularly fond of me."

"That's an understatement," Uhura said, bumping her shoulder against Jim's. "What's the official story?"

Jim sighed. "The _Enterprise_ needs some work done," he started ("Scotty will _love_ hearing that," Uhura muttered with a roll of her eyes). "Pike wants to give the crew shore leave," Jim continued; his face soured and he bent over to pick at a fraying edge on his shirt, "and... Spock and I 'need some time off'," he finished in a whisper. His hands curled into loose fists in his lap. "It's _bullshit_."

Uhura licked her lips. "Kirk," she said softly. "You didn't see Spock yesterday. It was-" She turned to make sure no one was standing in the doorway. "He _scared_ me. We saw-" Uhura broke off again, suddenly very interested in her cuticles. "You know what we saw," she whispered. "And Spock came back to the ship like _none of that had happened_ and set out like this was some normal rescue mission. I hardly recognized him," Uhura confessed.

Jim investigated his own hands for a moment. "I'm not sure I would've done anything different if our roles had been reversed," he said. "I would have turned the planet over to get him - any of you back."

Uhura quirked a wry little half-grin. "I know that. Hell, I _expect_ that from you, Kirk." She nudged him again. "But Spock... he's the last person I would've expected to do this," she told him.

Jim let out a frustrated huff. "What do you want me to say, Uhura? I'm sorry that he saved my life yesterday?" Jim grit his teeth tightly and kept the harsher words to himself. _Maybe you don't know him as well as you think_.

Uhura glared as if he'd said it anyway. "I am _not_ sorry he saved your life," she hissed. "I am _wondering_ just what this all cost him." She stood then, straightening out her skirt and ponytail. "In case you've forgotten, you're not the only Vulcan expert around here - and even I can tell this is already more serious than a few wet dreams. Spock and I may not have worked out in the long run," Uhura continued, making her way towards the door, "but maybe you should look into what it means for a Vulcan to be in a relationship - and all that it entails." The door swished shut behind her in a whisper, but Kirk jumped as if she'd slammed it.

"Open mouth, insert foot, Kirk." Jim ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. "God _damn_ it."


	14. Chapter 14

"Jim, I am going to stab you in the leg if you don't stop squirming," Bones lightly sang, a terrible glint in his eye.

Jim made a face and pressed a hand against his thigh. "I don't exactly have all my motor functions operating at peak condition right now, you know," he griped. "That knitter _tickles_."

"That's because it's on the lowest setting, you idiot," Bones replied as he ran the machine back and forth across Jim's ankle. "Lasers are not recommended for pregnant people."

Jim groaned and threw his head back against the pillow. "Nothing is recommended for pregnant people," he bitched.

"It's positively medieval," Bones declared with a smirk. "Isn't the miracle of life grand?"

"Your lack of medical professionalism is as disquieting as always, Doctor," Spock mentioned, leaning a hair closer to Jim. "Are you in any pain, Jim?"

Jim shook his head. "It's mostly a dull ache. The baby doesn't seem to mind, at any rate, and- _oof_." Jim clutched his stomach as it began a somewhat energetic wiggling fit. "I stand corrected," he wheezed.

Spock stared at the Human's abdomen for a beat. "May I?" he asked quietly.

"Go for it," Jim managed; he twitched as Spock pressed a hand lightly against the sliver of exposed skin. "Ow, son of a bitch!" Jim hissed to his belly. "Pick a spot and stay there!"

Spock snatched his hand back. "I apologize," he murmured.

"No, it's fine," Jim said, grabbing Spock's hand and pressing it a little firmer to his stomach. "It's annoying no matter where he moves. Just," he took in a shallow breath, "give me a minute."

"Alright, that's all I'm gonna do for today," McCoy murmured; he set the laser aside. "Let me just get your leg brace."

"How much longer do we have left of this?" Jim grumbled. "I'm so sick of this bed."

"If you're good, I might let you wheel yourself out of the shuttlecraft all on your own," Bones teased, clipping the hard, thick material around Jim's ankle. 

"I must go coordinate with Starfleet about our impending arrival," Spock announced. He stood, smoothed his hand over Jim's belly, and gave McCoy a nod of acknowledgement. "I shall return once we have begun docking procedures." Spock faltered then, his eyes flickering to Jim before he nodded once more and stalked from the room.

"Trouble in paradise?" Bones drawled with no small amount of glee.

Jim reached over and smacked him with a pillow.

***

"So you're probably wondering why I've called you all here today," Jim started with a quirk of his lips. In the corner of the room, Uhura sighed and rolled her eyes. At his bedside, Spock raised one sharp eyebrow; the rest of Jim's normal bridge crew merely tittered into their hands, save for Bones.

"Will you get on with it, Jim?" McCoy grumbled. "I've got shots to give out before we unleash our entire space-disease-ridden crew upon San Francisco."

"Vhat is the news, Keptin?" Chekov piped up.

Jim took a breath. "I don't know if any of you have noticed," he said hesitantly, "but I've gotten fatter."

"Fatter? No!" Scotty burst out with, shaking his head rapidly back and forth. "Ye look fit as a fiddle, Captain!"

Jim shot the Scotsman a look of disbelief. "No, I've definitely gotten fatter," he told him. "This tunic is nice, but you can't deny I'm a little rounder around the middle, Scotty."

"We all get a little rounder from time t' time, Captain," Scotty insisted with a wave of his hand. "It dunna mean-"

"I'm pregnant," Jim announced; he looked back to Spock, who nodded ever so slightly, and continued with, "Spock knocked me up."

Spock's other eyebrow lifted to join the first, his lips twitching faintly.

Chekov let out a little whoop and pulled a bag out from under Jim's bed, exclaiming, "Zis is so exciting!" He pulled out an assortment of little knitted things and spread them across Jim's lap. "I did not know if it vas a boy or girl, so I chose neutral colors."

"What?" Jim squawked.

"Are you having the shower on Earth or are you waiting until we take off again?" Sulu asked with a small grin.

" _What_?" Jim repeated, head whipping around to face his helmsman.

Scotty bounced on his heels. "How far along are ya, Captain?"

"Are we seriously going to ignore the part where I'm a guy?" Jim asked the room. "Or the part about Spock? _Seriously_?" He glared suspiciously at Chekov. "How long have you known?"

The Russian blinked wide, innocent eyes at Jim. "I do not know vhat you mean, Keptin."

"You knitted baby things!" Jim held up a small, green blanket and shook it. " _Chekov_."

"Told you you had a big mouth," Uhura said aloud, her lips twisting in amusement.

"Who else knows?" Jim demanded. Sulu, Scotty, and Chekov found various spots on the wall to stare at. Nurse Chapel coughed politely into her hand. "Oh my god," he whispered in horror. "Does the rest of the crew know?" Silence met him and he hissed, "The _entire crew_?"

Something clicked in his brain and Jim zeroed in on Scotty and Chekov. "You overheard my conversation with Captain Ito on the _Nagato_. That's why my yeoman kept bringing me muffins?" Sulu lost it, laughing helplessly into his hands and Jim threw his own hands up. "What the hell, guys?"

"T' be fair," Scotty interjected, raising a finger, "we dinnae know it was Commander Spock's. Congratulations, sir," he told Spock, beaming wide enough to show teeth.

"Not the gossiping type, my ass," Jim muttered weakly, grinding one knuckle against his temple. "So my whole crew has known this for over a month and I'm just now figuring it out. Thanks guys - really appreciate it."

Scotty shot the room another grin. "We do what we can, sir."

***

"Spock, seriously - I can move from a bed to a wheelchair." Jim rubbed a hand up and down the back of his skull. "Even better? I can actually _operate_ the wheelchair."

A small line of tension appeared in Spock's forehead. "Jim," he said with what Jim swore was almost a pout, "you are injured; you are tired; furthermore, you are pregnant-"

"All the more reason to let me get my exercise in while I can," Jim quipped swinging his leg gingerly over the side of the biobed. "You know Bones was kidding, right? I really can wheel myself; my arms are _just_ fine. There are even buttons that make it go for me if I get tired."

Spock raised one eyebrow. "I am not yet certain he was," he replied dryly.

"Spock, come on," Jim wheedled; he batted his lashes demurely up at Spock. "Let me do this myself?"

Spock pursed his lips, but still hovered by his side as Jim slowly limped the half a meter from the bed to his chair. Jim swayed a little in his seat and his lids fluttered as he stared back up at Spock triumphantly. "I will ask the Doctor if it is acceptable for you to wheel yourself out of the shuttlecraft," Spock acquiesced, sharp eyes taking in the slight labor in Jim's breathing.

"That's all I'm asking for," Jim said with a wide, but tired grin as Spock stalked out.

"No," McCoy immediately told him when he pulled his gaze up up from his tricorder. "Sorry, not with these readings."

"Why not?" Jim blurted; his hands curled into loose fists. "My arms are completely functional."

"Your arms may be fine," Bones muttered, handing the tricorder to Spock, "but your blood pressure is not. You're lucky you're not passed out on the floor right now, you idiot hobgoblin host."

Jim sent a weak glare McCoy's way before turning back to Spock. "Talk to him for me, will you?" he implored. "I feel fine."

"You are currently at rest," Spock said cautiously. "You may not feel any adverse effects until you begin to move."

"If your blood pressure goes back up when we've finished docking," Bones allowed, "then maybe - _maybe_ \- you can wheel yourself out. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Jim mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

***

Spock ended up pushing Jim out of the shuttlecraft anyway, the conspiring bastard.

"Well isn't this an ironic turn of events," Pike declared from against a nearby support beam. He kicked off and strode over with only the slightest of limps, greeting Spock with the ta'al before turning to Jim. "How are you feeling, Captain?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Like I have broken ankle," he told him. Then he pulled a moderately sincere smile on his face and grasped the Admiral's proffered hand in a firm shake. "So what's on the agenda for today, sir?"

Pike grinned. "I figured we could just have an informal debrief in my office and then get you set up in some temporary quarters before dinner tonight."

"Dinner?" Jim echoed suspiciously, raising one brow.

"One of our most famous captains comes back to Earth for some much deserved shore leave and you don't think we'd throw him a banquet?" Pike teased. "Just a little get together with some of the other admirals. You'll be pleased to hear, however," Pike continued with a scary smile, "that Admiral Nogura had some urgent business to take care of and will be unable to attend tonight."

"Yeah?" Jim asked laughed. "I wonder what could have happened?"

"Nothing he won't recover from," Chris said lightly.

"I see your time on Earth has done nothing to ground you," Spock cut in, raising one eyebrow at the older man.

"You've taught our Vulcan puns!" Pike looked absolutely delighted. "This really is a celebration."

"I assure you, Admiral," Spock replied in a deadpan tone, "the paronomasia was completely unintentional."

"Right, right," Chris said with a wave of his hand. He stepped onto the lift first and pressed against the side to accommodate for Spock and Jim's wheelchair. "Main station," he directed. "We haven't actually announced that you guys were coming back to Earth," he continued, "but seeing the _Enterprise_ pull into space dock? It's only a matter of time before the press gets a whiff and sends out the hounds."

"Hounds, Admiral?" Spock dryly asked. 

" _Luckily_ ," Pike said with a smirk in Spock's direction, "I have a secret weapon."

"Ladies," someone called as they exited the lift; she quirked a brow at Jim. "Fat man."

"And there she is," Chris announced. "Good afternoon, Number One."

"Admiral," Number One greeted with a jaunty salute. "Your chariot awaits, sirs."

This was going to be interesting.

***

The shuttle and subsequent trip to the hovercar were suspiciously devoid of any life (Human or otherwise) and Jim couldn't keep from blurting, "Okay, did you actually have to kill people to manage this or-?"

"You'd be surprised what a few well-timed bomb threats can accomplish," Number One quipped as she pulled the car out of the of the lot. In the back seat beside Jim, Spock turned his head towards her and stared. Number One threw her head back and laughed. "Relax - there weren't actually any bombs."

"Thank mercy for small favors," Pike muttered.

Jim, very slowly, leaned back to rest his head against the seat. "I'm just going to sit here," he told them, "and pretend my life makes sense."

"You're the youngest captain in Starfleet history, defeated a time-travelling Romulan hell bent on blowing up the universe, and are currently pregnant via strange alien beverage and unnamed humanoid party," Number One ticked off with her fingers; at Pike's sharp glance, she stuck her hands back on the wheel. "When exactly did your life make any sense at all?" she continued with a smirk.

Jim took that into consideration. "Point," he conceded. "Though I did have help with the Romulan bit." Jim paused, and then asked, "Hey, so how secret was this supposed to be?"

Pike whipped around and warningly said, "Jim..."

"What? I told my crew." Jim made a sour face. "Well, they figured it out and _then_ I told them." Pike continued with his glare of exasperation (yet undeniable fondness) and Jim squawked, "What? Pike, come on - best crew in the 'Fleet and you're surprised they noticed I'm carrying a little extra weight."

"Track down every one of his crew members and make sure they sign a confidentiality form before they leave the station," Pike ordered.

"Sir," Number One confirmed.

"Jim," Spock chided softly. "Your appearance is within acceptable parameters given your current state."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Thanks Spock," he replied with a hint of a grin. "But you haven't exactly seen what's going on in the skin department lately."

"I am certain that you look-" Spock pursed his lips, floundering for a moment. "-fine," he said eventually.

Jim opened his mouth, then closed it with a smile, nudging his shoulder lightly against Spock's.

Number One regarded them evenly in the rearview mirror.

***

When they arrived at Pike's office, Number One was at least kind enough to let Jim hobble back into his chair before speeding back the way they came. Jim let out a little huff as he sat back and Spock immediately grabbed for the wheelchair's handles, pushing him along before Jim could do something silly like move himself (ha, silly Jim).

"She's great," Chris said as he ushered them inside. "A little stir crazy from being stuck on Earth for so long, but great."

"A little," Jim snorted to himself. 

"I'll take it from here," Pike said as he sidled his way behind Jim's wheelchair; then he handed Spock a keycard. "We'll see you in a little bit, Commander."

"I can wheel myself, you know," Jim said. "Why doesn't anyone seem to believe that?"

"This is much more fun for me," Pike told him jokingly. His eyes flicked back to Spock. "Commander?"

Spock blinked, then nodded. "Very well; I will be in my quarters," he confirmed, turning on his heel and striding in the direction of the officers' temporary housing.

"What are we going to do about the citizens on Alpha Ophiuchi III?" Jim said when Spock was out of earshot; his lips pursed. "They're suffering."

Pike's hand tightened on the handle to Jim's chair. "They abducted and tortured the flagship's captain - they're lucky we don't start a war over this shit." He grit his teeth together. "We've sent two fully armed ships over to set up some negotiations - if their ruler is even still alive."

"He was when they shoved me in that tomb," Jim muttered.

Chris sighed. "Come on, let's talk in my office." He pressed his hand to the pad and, when the door slid open, Pike wheeled Jim in and took an armchair to the left instead of the one behind his desk. He folded his hands and pressed his fingers to his lips, sighing again. "Jim," he started quietly. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Jim grinned, a self-deprecating thing. "I never know what I'm doing, Pike, but you're gonna have to clue me in on what you're talking about this time - because I'm drawing a blank."

"Spock," Chris simply said; Jim stilled. "Don't lie to me, Jim; I know something's going on."

Jim licked his lips. "I don't know what we are, Chris," he rasped.

Chris cursed into his hands. "Jim," he groaned. "Do you know how much of a shitstorm this is going to cause? Ignoring the fraternization regs, every single decision you two have ever made is going to be scrutinized-"

"Woah, back up." Jim held up a hand, his brows furrowed. "Are you really bringing the fraternization policy with me right now? Spock and Uhura dated for a year and half-"

"Neither of them was a captain and Spock," Pike cut in, "did not disregard his or anyone else's personal safety to tear apart an entire planet on a supposedly futile rescue mission for Lt. Uhura." He straightened abruptly, eyes pinning Jim in a hard, calculating stare. "Jim, please tell me..." Chris shook his head as he began to put the pieces together. "Are you _kidding_ me right now, Jim?"

"Wow, when you said informal, you really meant informal," Jim accused.

"You can have this discussion with me or you can have it with another admiral," Pike snapped back. " You may not seem to think so, but I am on your side, kid, and this is going to come out the second Dr. McCoy releases your medical files to us, so you might as well just tell me now."

"We were drugged!" Jim shouted helplessly; Chris buried his face in his hands and moaned in frustration. "So it's taking us a while to figure things out-"

"Oh, is that what this is?" Pike asked the floor. He shook his head. "Damn it, Jim, there is a reason we transfer out the high-ranked couples. Do you know what Starfleet - hell, the press - is going to do when they hear about this?"

"Any worse than me being a medical miracle?" Jim hissed, gesturing to his stomach. "Somehow, I feel like that's more outlandish than whatever is going on with me and my First Officer."

Chris looked up and Jim could see lines of exhaustion crawling across his face. "Are you really prepared to throw away both of your careers for this?"

"Why is it this," Jim exploded, " _this_ , that suddenly means I'm throwing my career away?"

"Having a kid is one thing," Pike gently replied. "Not being able to make rational decisions is another. You and Spock can't go gallivanting off into danger at the expense of your crew. Do you see where I'm coming from here? No matter what actually happened," he continued, "that's what it's going to look like - that's what Starfleet is going to see the next time you or Spock make any sort of decision regarding the other - no matter how impartial it may or may not have been."

"Let me talk to him," Jim pleaded. "Please, Chris: M'Benga said that all Vulcans get screwy when their-" Jim faltered, his jaw clicking as he scrambled for the right word, "-whatever, gets pregnant. It's a hormonal imbalance - it makes them crazy protective because of how dangerous it can get for the mother. He probably doesn't even know," Jim finished in a whisper. "You know how Vulcans are when it comes to their privacy."

"A hormonal imbalance," Chris repeated slowly, raising one eyebrow.

"Ask M'Benga," Jim told him. "This won't get in the way of our jobs - I can promise you that."

Pike sighed and stood, leaning over to pull Jim into a firm hug. "Don't make me look like an ass, kid," he murmured.

"I won't, Chris," Jim quietly replied. "I won't."

***

"Well, this is a surprise," M'Benga greeted when the call connected. He smiled charmingly however, tilting the screen back so he could get a better look at Jim. "I figured Leonard would be handling all of your medical needs for the time being."

"This isn't exactly," Jim huffed out a sigh, "a medical call. For me, at least." He ran a hand through his hair and settled back in the bed. "You're not busy right now, are you?"

"Of course not," M'Benga replied. "We just finished doling out all the necessary vaccinations and I was getting ready to transport down, but it can wait. I'm not exactly looking forward to the cold." He laughed. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"Spock," Jim said softly. "Is there a chance that... the way he's acting is because of the baby? That paternal bond you talked about, is it-" Jim blinked back a sudden wave of emotion and he exhaled nice and slow, pressing a hand to his stomach. "Do you think that's why Spock tried so hard to get me back? Why he's barely left my side the past couple of weeks?"

M'Benga frowned in thought, his eyebrows drawing together. "You said he knew about the child? Before all of this happened?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jim confirmed. "Ever since the planet with the spores."

M'Benga sat forward and balanced his elbows on his knees; he propped his chin on folded hands. "The paternal bond," he started, lips still pursed. "Well, it isn't something that forms accidentally. The bond you've built with the child - you've worked on it. You meditate, talk to him, it-" He licked his lips and sighed. "The answer is, I don't know. Spock is half-Human, and the baby is three-quarters Human. Maybe that means the child would require less contact to form a bond, maybe it means more. You're worried because you think Spock's actions are being dictated by his biology instead of his own free will?"

"It's not the first time the choice has been taken away from him," Jim confessed, a little twinge settling in his chest. He coughed and then: "I need to know if this type of behavior is going to continue or if it's - merely a side effect."

"Vulcans are very protective of their mates," M'Benga cautiously allowed and Jim started.

"We're not-" Jim shook his head. "We're not even dating, Doctor."

M'Benga finally smiled and said, "I'm going to send a few texts to your PADD, alright? Do you read Vulcan?"

"A little," Jim whispered; the door chimed. "That's Spock - I gotta go."

"Good luck, Captain," M'Benga told him before ending the transmission.

Jim pressed a button on his nightstand and the door slid open with a quiet _whoosh_ ; without missing a beat, Spock strode in and took a chair beside the bed. "Jim," he said softly. "I trust your meeting with Admiral Pike went well?"

"It was somethin' alright," Jim chuckled, hanging his head with a sigh. "I figured I didn't need to ask, but you're coming to the dinner tonight, right? Bones threatened his way in already," he finished; his lips curled in a soft grin.

Spock inclined his head slightly. "You are distressed," he said then. He sucked in his lower lip, then rose and slid onto the bed, curling an arm around Jim's shoulders. "Is this an acceptable form of comfort?" Spock asked.

Jim snorted and ducked his face into the curve of Spock's neck. "This is fine, thank you," he murmured. "Are you just doing this for my benefit, or...?"

"I find it is... somewhat of a comfort to me, as well," Spock admitted. "I am better able to assess both yours and the child's state this way. Did," Spock hesitated, "the meeting with Admiral Pike affect you negatively?"

Jim exhaled softly. "Pike thinks the shit's about to hit the fan; he's worried about what Starfleet is going to do when they learn about the whole 'you're my baby daddy' thing." He closed his eyes and leaned a little heavier on Spock. "Spock, do we emotionally compromise each other?"

"Yes," Spock replied simply; Jim tensed, so Spock continued with, "However, this is... not a recent development. My judgement has been impaired where you are concerned for approximately two point six years."

"Only approximately?" Jim teased.

Spock frowned in thought. "It was your first diplomatic mission aboard the _Enterprise_ ," he started slowly.

"Oh god," Jim moaned. "Why _that_ mission?"

Spock quirked an eyebrow and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "I believe the Doctor referred to it as 'one of the most spectacular screw-ups he had ever damn seen'," he quoted. "You ran into a ditch amidst phaser fire to rescue not the president of the colony-"

"You already had him covered," Jim quipped with a little smirk.

"-but a young girl who had tripped and fallen amidst the chaos. It would have been far safer - far more _logical_ \- for her to stay down, hidden out of sight, but instead you dove in to help her and ordered us to beam the president to safety." Spock's brow furrowed as if the memory still tasted sour on his tongue.

"Well, you all _did_ bring the president back to the ship," Jim told Spock, shoving lightly at the Vulcan's free shoulder. "So, why?"

"I did not wish to," Spock answered. "Even now, I still cannot follow your reasoning - your risking great personal injury for no reason."

"It wasn't for no reason, Spock," Jim said quietly; he shook his head and flashed a wry grin. "She was a kid - there wasn't any _reasoning_ behind it except that I had to make sure she was safe."

"I do understand your desire to ensure the safety of another life form," Spock started. "I, too, am often motivated by that same drive. However, the probability of a phaser hitting her where she lay-"

"Spock." Jim silenced him with a slight pressure against Spock's ribcage. "Not everything will make sense to you a hundred percent of the time." His lips curved into another, softer smile. "Just chalk it up to the 'illogical Human nature'."

Spock pursed his own lips, meanwhile. "Even after your order," he continued, "I wished to stay on the planet and ensure that you safely returned to the ship, though logic won over my personal... feelings. My reactions on that planet are a continuing source of frustration for me, especially considering I still cannot pinpoint why it was that mission in particular that changed my views." Spock wrinkled his nose lightly and exhaled. "I trust that you will make the proper decisions regarding both the crew and myself," he whispered. "It is all I can do."

Jim slipped his arm around Spock's waist and held on tight. "And if you have to make one of those decisions about me?" Jim asked him. "What will you do?"

Spock was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, "You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I- ...There is little I would not do for you," he confessed. "However, I am a Vulcan. Logic is what we strive for. I will endeavor to control my actions as I always do."

Jim clung just a little bit tighter and in his desperation thought, _I hope that's enough_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you guys for being so patient with me. This semester seriously kicked my ass, then I had a giant case of writer's block, then I got just so damn _busy_. But thank you all for understanding that real life gets in the way and I really hope the wait was worth it ♥ On another note, it's not very noticeable, but I made a few dialogue tweaks in a few chapters. Nothing too big, just some continuity stuff, some more elaboration here and there. Now, without further ado, onto the next chapter!

Starfleet Command's Banquet Hall C was immense - sprawling murals that stretched across the ceiling in a fashion reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel of the ancient Vatican city, windows that took the place of walls, doorways taller than even the inhabitants Jim had seen on Elephas 6. A handful of small, round tables were scattered off to the sides, but in the center of the vast room stood one long, glass banquet table, decorated far more ornately than any table had any right to be. Various admirals sat around Jim making small talk, fake smiles plastered on their faces that hardly masked the way their judgmental eyes couldn't stop sliding back to Jim's swollen stomach.

Basically, it was everything Jim hated about Starfleet Command wrapped up in one neat little, egregiously over-embellished package.

With a sigh, Jim accepted his fate and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming migraine he could feel building behind his eyelids. Beside him, Spock raised an eyebrow and hovered a little closer. Jim snorted. "It's a headache, Spock; I'm fine."

"You want a hypo, Jim?" Bones asked from his other side.

Jim shook his head. "Not from you, sadist," he teased. "Really, guys, this is not the first headache I've ever had - and it won't be the last."

"Perhaps you should return to your quarters," Spock suggested.

Jim closed his eyes and imagined it for a moment - pure bliss. "If only," he murmured; he settled back in his chair a little more firmly. "I'll manage - there's only so many ways you can say 'glad to have you back', right?"

"Can I interest any of you gentlemen with the wine list?" the server asked as he appeared, a thin sheet of plastic in his hands.

"The Captain and I do not drink," Spock said immediately. "Water will suffice for me."

"Water's fine for me too," Jim confirmed, shooting the Vulcan a look; he pursed his lips. "Spock," Jim started slowly after the man had departed. "You know I can tell them that myself, right?"

Spock faltered. "Of course," he replied, recovering. "My apologies."

"You don't have to apologize," Jim told him, "just let me order my own stuff."

Spock's lips thinned for a moment before he nodded. Jim sent another cautious glance the Vulcan's way before turning back to Bones.

It was going to be a long night.

***

"So, Kirk," Komack started with a breezy little grin; he set his wine glass down on the tabletop and propped his chin on his knuckles. "You never did mention it in your report."

Jim paused, set his fork down, and clasped his hands together. "Mention what, sir?" he asked after a moment.

"The father!" Komack easily replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Come on now, don't be shy; who's the lucky fellow? The father of this medical phenomena."

Beside Jim, Spock tensed minutely. Jim clenched his jaw, then pulled on his brightest smile."That would be me, sir," he confirmed, eyes twinkling. The air around Jim seemed to cool a few degrees, but he kept his gaze stubbornly on Komack. "But that's not whom you were referring to, was it?"

"You caught me," Komack confessed; the admiral shrugged and, though that same grin was still pasted on his face, his eyes were sharp, cold. "I'm a little curious. It's not often a single medical officer on a single ship gets _sole_ access to one of Starfleet's officer's medical records."

To Jim's left, McCoy's fork shrieked across the old-fashioned china plate before him. On his other side, Spock had gone completely silent, fingers clenched tight in the cushion of his armrest. Jim could practically _feel_ Chris Pike's attention snapping immediately to the two of them from three seats down.

Jim merely said, "It's a delicate situation."

"So I hear," Komack replied; his eyes flicked from McCoy to Spock, and then finally back to Jim. "Admiral Nogura tells me you've had quite the interesting past few months," he continued pleasantly. "Near medical emergencies, _actual_ medical emergencies, disruptions of ship management, allowing one of your officers to perform a wild goose chase-"

"James," Pike warned lowly, jaw twitching.

"I'm merely saying our Captain's been busy, Chris," Komack continued with a faux-pleasantness that sent a bitter tang to the back of Jim's throat. Sharp eyes like a hawk pinned Jim to his chair. "He deserves a rest."

"With all due respect," Jim started, "I did not authorize a 'wild goose chase' and I'm not certain Admiral Nogura has enough of the facts to come to the conclusions he's reached about how I run my ship."

Komack's eyes narrowed. "And I'm not certain you have the authority to speak about a superior officer that way - especially considering the man couldn't even be here tonight," he tacked on, raising one eyebrow in Pike's general direction.

"How 'bout that," Chris noted, and though his tone was light, the tick in his jaw gave him away.

"How about that indeed," Komack mused; his attention locked back onto Kirk and he opened his mouth as if to start again.

"Admiral, perhaps it would behoove you to recall exactly where you are this moment in time, and to whom exactly you are speaking," Spock said abruptly, removing his hands from the armrests of his chair and clasping them together on the table in front of him.

Jim frowned, turned to the Vulcan, and tightly whispered, " _Spock_."

The admiral's focus shifted to Spock then. "Oh?" Komack laughed. "Pray tell."

Spock moved to steeple his fingers and pressed them to his lips. "We are currently sitting in a banquet hall under the impression of welcoming Captain James T. Kirk back to Earth after a particularly difficult four point seven months and even more difficult two point two weeks. As I am officially on administrative leave pending a hearing of my conduct on Alpha Ophiuchi III-" (Jim whipped back around to Pike and bit out a, " _What _?") "-I am here tonight as the son of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. Also, as I am a member an endangered species, this elevates my value in the Federation even further."__

__"Spock, _cut it out_ ," Jim hissed again._ _

__"You have brought Captain Kirk here under false pretences," Spock continued coldly. "You have insulted him and, therefore, you have insulted me. It is highly probable that this could start quite the scandal throughout Starfleet."_ _

__" _Commander_ ," Jim interrupted with a sharp clack of his teeth. "You sound tired. Perhaps it's time you retired for the night?"_ _

__Spock regarded him evenly, and for a second Jim thought he might actually say _no_. Then he said, "Very well," stiffly stood, and made his way to the exit._ _

__All around them, the table had gone still as death, Pike, Komack, and the other admirals practically gaping like fish at the sight. Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. _What a fucking disaster_. "Bones, go get my chair. Please," he muttered, folding up his napkin and tossing it across his plate. "Gentlemen," he told them as Bones reappeared, helping him maneuver around his leg. "Thank you for all of this, but I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to."_ _

__Like kicking some _serious_ Vulcan ass._ _

____

***

"What the _hell_ was that all about?" Jim shouted as he smacked his fist to the arm of his wheelchair. "Are you trying to get your ass thrown out of Starfleet?"

Spock turned away from the window to face Jim, hands clasped tight behind his back. Then he said, "Admiral Komack's behavior tonight was reprehensible and not unlike that of a child's. It was necessary for me to-"

" _Necessary_?" Jim hissed; he threw his arms up and wished he could do something besides sit in this _goddamn chair_. "Spock, that was a glorified pissing match. Did you really think that was the best way to go about this?"

"They stared at you," Spock accused, his face twisting, "belittled you-"

"I don't need you to fight my battles!" Jim bit out. "And if I did? I wouldn't need it in the middle of dinner with the _goddamned admiralty_." A sharp sting of pain shot down Jim's abdomen, but he ignored it. "What the hell is the matter with you, Spock? _Goddamn it_ ," he shook his head, "I should've listened to Uhura."

"Pardon?" Spock asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"What exactly did it cost you to pull me out of those catacombs, Spock?" The ache in his belly intensified and Jim grunted, pressing the palm of his hand to his side. Jim shook his head softly. "The way that you've been acting lately... You're not yourself, Spock. I don't like it. If I'd've known this is what this would've done to you... I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have told you. Maybe we shouldn't be doing this. " _Maybe you should've left me on that godforsaken planet_. Jim buckled over suddenly and wrapped both arms around his stomach. " _Fuck_ ," he hissed tightly.

Spock took a step towards him, but Jim held a hand up and bit out, "No - back up. I am pissed off at you right now."

"You are unwell," Spock started hesitantly. "If you would allow me to-"

" _No_ ," Jim repeated in a firm voice. "I want you to report to M'Benga for a full physical tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred and I want you to deliver a formal apology to the admirals for your behavior tonight. Are we clear, Commander?" Jim cursed and flicked open his communicator. " _Bones_. Got a minute?"

Spock shook his head warily. "Jim-"

" _Are we clear, Commander_?" Jim asked again.

Spock blinked then and something seemed to snap back into place. "Yes, sir," he said, near-whispering; he sharply nodded once. "It is my behavior that is unacceptable - I apologize, Captain."

Exhaustion seemed to hit Jim all at once and he dipped his head in acknowledgement, murmuring, "I know, Spock." Bones skidded in, still half in his dress-uniform and Jim croaked a weak, "Do you mind taking a look at the baby?"

Hesitating slightly, Spock took an aborted step, then quietly asked, "You will inform me if something is amiss, Captain?"

"I'll let you know, Spock," Jim confirmed. He was so tired; no, Jim was _exhausted_. "I'll let you know."

***

"Everything's fine, Jim," Bones told him later, after he'd put the scanners away and collapsed against the side of Jim's bed. "But you have _got_ to tone down your stress levels - it's not good for the baby."

"I'll get right on that, Bones," Jim snapped; he scrubbed a hand across his face, then grimaced and moved to rest his hands on either side of his stomach. "It would be a hell of a lot easier without _Spock, of all people,_ pulling shit like that."

"Remind me to give you something for that acne," Bones murmured. His eyes fluttered for a moment and he yawned over a laugh. "But _Jesus_ , did you see Komack's face?"

Jim snorted and said, "I thought his head was going to explode." He let out a low groan and smacked his head against the wall behind him. "God, this is such a disaster. He said that to Admiral _Komack_. He'll be lucky if they don't throw him on a garbage scow after this."

"Well, I'm not going to pretend what he said wasn't true, Jim," Bones started; Jim shot him a sour look and McCoy continued with, "Don't give me that, you brat. They brought you there to laugh at you - maybe not Pike, but definitely Komack, and Nogura, if he'd been there. If Spock hadn't a' said anything, I would've."

"That's the thing!" Jim burst out, throwing his hands out to the side. "Spock said it - _Spock_. He's the biggest stickler for protocol I've ever met and it's as if he's completely thrown the rulebook out the window." He groaned again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told him to go to M'Benga for a physical and deliver a formal apology to the Admirals. God. What am I going to do if it isn't crazy Vulcan hormones?" He grimaced then. "What am I going to do if it _is_?"

Bones pursed his lips and sat back up, reaching over so he could grab Jim's hand and squeeze it tight. "Hey. One thing at a time, Jim. No sense worrying about if's and shit - just wait and see what M'Benga says and work your way from there. Besides," and Bones sneered, "you have your own medical appointment to worry about tomorrow."

" _No_ ," Jim moaned. He banged his head against the wall a few more times for good measure. "I'm so sick of check-ups, Bones."

Bones teased, "Should'a thought about that before you went and let Spock put his virile, voodoo Vulcan dick up your-"

Jim smacked him in the face with his pillow.

***

Jim knew it was going to be a difficult morning when the receptionist told McCoy to stay in the waiting room.

"The hell I'm not!" he barked, flipping up his ID badge to press against the window. "I know more about this damn boy than his own mama - I can write a book on James Kirk down to his mtDNA, I am his attending physician, and I am his friend. You are not, and I repeat, you are _not_ , sending that boy in there without me."

"Let me just," he squeaked, "get Admiral Pike on the comm."

"Damn fools," Bones snarled.

"I love it when you get forceful, Bones," Jim told him sweetly.

McCoy cuffed him lightly across the ear. "You watch your mouth," he grumbled, "or I'm gonna make sure you're stuck in that damn chair the entire time we're grounded here on Earth."

Jim shot Bones a wounded look. "You _wouldn't_."

"I just might," he threatened just as the receptionist said, "You both can go in now."

If Jim thought Bones' doctoring methods were harsh, Starfleet Command's normal physicians were the exact opposite: quiet and to the point, gentle, sweet to the point of nausea, and god, boring, they were so _boring_. 

Jim hated every one of them.

(Though, to be fair, Bones told Jim it was just hormones. Jim wasn't inclined to agree - they really were aggravating as fuck.)

"Alright, now I just need you to lie back while we take another round of 4D's," the assistant cooed as she slid the cold scanner across his stomach. She turned back and gave him a brilliant smile, flashing pearly white teeth. "So healthy, considering the circumstances - bravo, Captain Kirk."

Jim barely (just barely) restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Thank you, Doctor." At his side, Bones grabbed Jim's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

She smiled again, hair bouncing as she moved and snapped about fifty shots before turning back and taking _another_ blood sample, a third neuro-scan, his weight (again), his height ( _again_ ), his temperature, another scan of his pseudo-uterus, a scan of the blood vessels connected to the various parts of his insides, the healed section of his colon - Jim lost count after a while, but McCoy seemed to be going through some inner checklist, nodding as the saccharine sweet doctor continued chirping away as she worked.

Shortly after she'd shuffled out, Bones, amused, drawled, "You know, I'm half-surprised you didn't spend the entire time flirting, Jim."

"Right, because her measuring the length of my stretch marks is the perfect time to invite her out for coffee," Jim deadpanned.

"You can't drink coffee," Bones reminded him with a grin.

"That's the point," Jim said; he made a rude face as Bones turned away to get a cup of water from the sink, who flipped Jim the bird without even looking.

Another gentleman strolled in then and flicked through about twenty slides on his PADD before asking in Jim's general direction, "So, according to your bloodwork, the fetus is part Vulcan, is that correct?"

And so it began. "Correct," Jim confirmed, slowly shuffling himself to an upright position. 

He glanced at another slide, face carefully neutral. "There seems to be a slight distension and discoloration to your lower abdomen-"

"The discoloration is because of the baby's Vulcan blood," McCoy interrupted, "and the distension has less to do with any type of disease or dysfunction, and more to do with the voodoo-uterus he's got hangin' out in there."

He hummed and raised an eyebrow, sifting through what Jim assumed to be more test results. "Other than those two concerns," the other man continued lightly, "XY, a healthy twenty-three pairs of chromosomes, acceptable amniotic sac thickness, interesting medium between human and Vulcan physiological norms-"

"Those've been his standard results since he conceived," McCoy said, arms crossed. He gave the other doctor - Kenneth Grant, Jim noticed from his ID badge - a level look.

He held McCoy's gaze for a moment, then nodded, turning back to his PADD. "The most concerning part at the moment seems to be the position your... uterus has grown into, if the discoloration is actually a result of the amniotic fluid and not another underlying condition. Tell me more about your symptoms after you consumed the mainosetum drink. Do you know what was in it?"

Jim pursed his lips. "The flower, the local water, some colorful herbs-" Jim tried to wrack his brain for something more specific. "It was strained and steamed, almost like a tea. We drank it and it tasted bitter, tangy. I was dizzy, I had the chills, but I was feverish, sweaty, clammy - all at once - I vomited twice while my First and I were incarcerated, I was delirious, eventually my throat closed up-"

"I recorded the contents of his stomach and intestines, as well as his symptoms and hormone levels in my initial report," Bones told him.

"Of course, Doctor," Grant acknowledged before turning his attention back to Jim. "And then you proceeded to have intercourse."

"That's generally how it works," Jim snipped. "At least, that's what I've been told. Bones?"

Bones smirked. "Yeah, Jim, that's how you make a baby - the traditional way, at least."

Grant carefully ignored their remarks. "And you've never taken fertility treatments before?" he asked, clicking something on his screen. "Never had a plasti-womb put in?"

"No and no," Jim said. "Not really something I ever saw myself wanting."

Grant finally put the PADD down and looked ( _really_ looked) at Jim, running a hand through his hair. "A fully-functional - for all intents and purposes - spontaneously formed uterus. And not only that, but you ovulated, and your body somehow managed to induce the right symptoms in the right places. _Wow_. Utterly amazing." He grinned and shook his head. "Do you know what this could do for families who don't want to adopt or can't have a plasti-womb put in - physically, religiously, and et cetera - but still want to have children? Doctor, what are relations like with the inhabitants of Antarabi VI?" Grant asked, turning back to Bones.

"Uh, not friendly," Jim told him; he grunted and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. "I may not be the greatest diplomat, but I know going back to a planet that we already pissed off to ask for their magic flower juice isn't exactly the best idea."

Dr. Grant gave Jim an indulgent smile. "Captain," he soothed. "Compounds can be resynthesized, tests can be run. We've got you here for another five months, after all; there's plenty of time to get these kinks sorted out."

McCoy's eyes lit with fury. "Now you wait just a minute, son-"

Jim held a hand out to stop his friend. "Let's get one thing straight: I am not your guinea pig and I am not going to sit around for the next five months and let you turn me into a lab rat."

Grant's expression soured. "I wasn't suggesting-"

"No," Jim firmly interrupted, "I know what you were suggesting. You want to run tests; you want to poke and prod at me - more than my CMO _already_ does, might I add; you want to figure out what makes me tick. And while that's all well and good, I do not need to be turned into Starfleet's little poster boy of miracles. _Again_." Jim let out a small growl of frustration and massaged his eyelids. "Do you know how uncomfortable this whole mess has been for me, Dr. Grant? I may not have a medical degree, but I have read the pregnancy texts, and I can smell bullshit from a mile away. This, right here, is the furthest thing from a safe, normal pregnancy you can get. There are," Jim laughed helplessly, "hundreds of ways for people to have children, from hundreds of different cultures. You can use the test results you have from what you've gathered today, you can even run the standard amount of tests after the baby's born, but we," and Jim gestured between him and his swollen stomach, "are not going to be sitting in this lab longer than we would for any normal check-up. Are we clear, Doctor?"

It looked as if someone had stuffed a rather tart lemon in Grant's mouth. "Crystal," he replied.

***

" _Jim_ ," Pike started long-sufferingly when the call had connected. "No one is trying to turn you into a guinea pig."

"Yeah, maybe you're not," Jim said around his smoothie, "but I was also under the impression that I was getting a 'welcome home' dinner, not an interrogation of my ability to captain my ship."

Chris blew a burst of air from his lips. "It could've gone better," he admitted. 

"Yes, it could've," Jim confirmed, then: "Have you seen Commander Spock at all today?" He pursed his lips and swallowed another mouthful of the green beverage.

"Do you mean did I get a very sad-looking Vulcan on my doorstep at the asscrack of dawn delivering a lengthy recitation of why he'd been a very bad boy, please tell mom I apologized so I can stop sleeping on the couch?" Pike shot Jim a half-smirk. "Yes, I saw Commander Spock today."

Jim made a childish face. Then he sighed. "Well that's good, at least," he mumbled, tilting back so he could roll his neck from side to side. "God, I really am sorry about that - Spock was seriously out of line."

"I'll see what I can do to smooth things over, Jim, but I'm not sure how well it'll go over with everything else that's happened lately," Chris said, and though his words were serious, the lines of Pike's eyes crinkled lightly. "If it'd been anywhere else, it would've been almost sweet, kid. Let it never be said that Vulcans are anything but loyal."

"God, why does everyone keep saying that? It was not sweet, it was embarrassing. And I'm less concerned about his reasoning for doing what he did than I am about the fact he did it to his superior officers," Jim grumbled, even as he felt his cheeks heat. "Getting back on topic," he continued loudly, "I don't have a problem with Starfleet medical trying to improve already existing technologies and whatnot. What I don't want is them sticking me in a lab for god knows how long to run test after test and turning my kid into some damn science experiment. I had enough of being George Kirk's kid growing up - this kid does not need to grow up being treated like some circus freak."

Pike's expression softened. "Jim," he said softly, "I don't know how much of that he's going to be able to avoid regardless. Vulcans are an endangered species now-" Jim's throat closed up suddenly, one hand looping around to cup his stomach, "-and you're not exactly unknown either, _Captain_."

Jim sighed and the door chimed; he turned to see that Spock was requesting access and said, "I should probably take this. I'll talk to you later, _Admiral_."

"Goodnight, Jim," Pike said with a somewhat fond smile. "Let's go out to lunch sometime - just you and me, eh?"

Warmth pooled in Jim's belly and slid down to his toes. "That sounds great. 'Night Chris."

When Spock entered the room, he stood at attention and kept his eyes firmly on the wall until Jim blew out a puff of hair and whispered, "Hi Spock."

Spock blinked and finally looked at Jim. "Captain," he greeted. "I have reported to the other Admirals and expressed my sincerest apologies; I have been to see Doctor M'Benga; furthermore I would like to apologize to you - that, above all else, should have been my first priority."

It was a start; his First was clearly making an effort and Jim's chest tightened at the sight of it. "Spock," Jim repeated softly. "Come here." Spock padded over, spine still ramrod straight, and Jim patted a spot on the bed beside him.

Spock took a seat and turned to Jim, a slight furrow between his brows. "Captain-" he started.

"Jim," Jim corrected; he scrubbed a hand across his face. "Right now, it's just Jim and Spock, okay?" Spock nodded, his eyes deliriously bright, and Jim continued, "I know this isn't exactly easy for you, either, Spock, and trying to separate the personal and professional right now isn't exactly working, so. Fuck," he moaned, laughing suddenly. "Spock, I miss my friend."

Spock nodded and said, "I, too, share a similar sentiment. Jim, I am sorry I let my personal feelings dictate my actions instead of logic in these matters."

Jim, against his better judgment, reached out and cupped one hand to Spock's jaw. "There's nothing wrong with feelings, Spock," he murmured, "but I am trying to save your career before you flush it down the tubes. What did M'Benga say when you went for your physical?"

"He was still," Spock stuttered a bit, "collecting data when I left. He promised he would inform me of the results in the morning."

"Good," Jim confirmed. He paused, and then: "Spock. What are we doing?"

"I do not have an answer," Spock replied quietly. "Only that I am-" He paused, trying to find the words. "I fear I have done things I cannot come back from, Jim." He brought his own hand up and slid it back around Jim's neck. "I fear what I will do when you leave."

A tendril of unease slid down Jim's spine. "Spock-" he started.

"Please allow me to-" Spock hesitated again. "I do not require a decision from you this moment Jim. I understand that Humans require time to think and to process. I would, however, like to make my intentions clear." Spock looked down meaningfully and then locked eyes with Jim. "My experience is somewhat lacking, I will admit, however..."

A wave of arousal hit Jim, so intense he nearly buckled over. "Oh my _god_ ," he whispered hoarsely. "Are you sure now is the right time to-?"

"I do not find your body distasteful," Spock replied. "On the contrary, I find it quite... stimulating."

Oh. _Oh_ , Jim was done for. "Oh my god," he said again, leaning back against the pillows. Face heating, he licked his lips and nodded. Then a thought struck him. "Please tell me you're not doing this because you feel guilty-"

Spock, in the middle of unbuttoning Jim's pants, looked mildly annoyed. "That would be illogical: sexual favors spawned from feelings of guilt is a wholly Human trait," he said.

"Says the half-Human," Jim retorted. "And I have it on good authority that that is not just a Human- _ohmygod_ ," Jim hissed as Spock swallowed the head of his dick. He licked a thin stripe down the underside of Jim's dick, and Jim groaned appreciatively. " _Shit_."

Spock looked up a moment later and asked, breath light and nearly painful against Jim's cock, "Is this acceptable, Jim?"

"Very acceptable," Jim ground out. "Very, very acceptable."

The corner of Spock's mouth twitched and he ran two fingers up the side of Jim's dick, mouth closing over the head again. As he swallowed a little deeper, his hands moved to explore Jim's hips, tracing stretch marks and faint scars; his fingers slid to lightly caress Jim's swollen stomach and Jim gasped.

Spock paused. "Do you object to this?" he asked.

Jim shook his head tightly. "No, it's just - weird."

Spock made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. "I find the sight of your body carrying my child very appealing, Jim," he affirmed before resuming his ministrations.

Jim hitched a breath and whispered, " _Jesus, Spock_ ," before reaching down to grasp Spock's hand tightly. Spock inhaled sharply through his nose and sucked harder, tongue moving sloppily against the underside of Jim's dick. Jim nearly choked when he recalled, _Oh. Hands,_ and shakily moved to stroke his first two fingers down the back of Spock's hand. Spock groaned and the vibrations made Jim's dick twitch. "Shit," he repeated, panting, and teased the webbing between Spock's fingers. 

" _Jim_ ," Spock growled, looking up at him through slightly ruffled bangs. 

Jim laughed, throwing his head back, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Spock's swollen, green lips. "What fun is it for me if I don't get to share the work?"

"You should not physically exert yourself-" Spock started, but Jim cut him off with, "Right, like this is exerting myself," and noisily sucking on Spock's fingertips. Spock's face turned nearly blue and his other hand tightened on Jim's hip. Then he bent back down and proceeded to give Jim a run for his money. 

Later, when he was tucked up against the cooler Vulcan body, hand pressed to the rapidly-beating heart in Spock's ribcage (the nightmares, for a short while at least, held at bay), Jim took a good, long moment to appreciate how very gone, and how utterly, truly fucked he was.

"Way to go, Kirk," he whispered to Spock's shoulder. "Way to _fucking go_."


End file.
